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ON LIFE, DEATii, IMMORTALITY. 

How many fall as sudden, not as safe ! 
As sudden, thoush for years admonish'd home. 
Of human ills the last extreme beware : 
Beware, Lorenzo ! a slow sudden death. 
I How dreadful that deliberate surprise ! 
Be wise to-day ; 'tis madness to defer ; 
Next day the fatal precedent will plead ; 
Thus on, till wisdom is push'd out of life. 
Procrastination is the thief of time ; «' , 

Year after year it steals, till all are fled, >* 

And to the ni«rcies of a moment leaves * ^V 

The vast concerns of an eternal scene. 
If not so frequent, would not this be strange? '*• 
Thiat 'tis so frequent, this is stranger still. 

Of man's miraculous mistakes, this bears 
Tlie palm " thaf all mfen are about to live," 
For ever on the brink of being born. 
All pay themselves thiB compliment to think 
They one day shall not drivel : and their prid^. 
On this reversion, takes up ready praise ; 
At least, their own ; their future selves appL 
How excellent that life they ne'er will lead 
Time lodged in their own Irandsis folly's va 
That lodged in fate's, to wisdom they consign ; 
The thing they can't but purpose, they postpone : 
Tis not in folly, not to scorn a fool ; j* 

And scarce in human wisdom to do more. ■ 

All promise is poor dilatory man. 
And that through every stage : when young, indeed, 
In full content we sometimes nobly rest, 
tfnanxious for. ourselves ; and only wi^;, 
As duteous sons, our fathers were more wise. 
/At thirty, man suspects himself a fool j , 
/ Knows it forty, and reforms his plan ; / 

/ At fifty, chides his infamous delay, / 

' Pushes his prudent purpose to resolve ; ' 
in all the magnanimity of thought 
Resolves, and re-resolves ; then dies the same. 

And why ? Because he thinks himself immortal. / 
All men think all men mortal, but themselves ; ' 

Themselves, when some alarming shock of fate 
Strikes thorough their wounded hearts the sudden 

dread : 
But their hearts wounded, like the wounded air, 
Soon close ; where pass'd the shaft, no trace is foun4. 
As from the wing no scar the sky retains ; 
The parted wave no furrow from the keel ; 
So d:^es in human hearts the thought of death : 
Even'^iththe tender tear which Nature sheds 
O'er tn^e wc love, we drop it in their gravp. 
Can I fo||et Philander ? That weise strange ! 



N 



20 THE COMPLAINT. [Night I. 

my full heart ! — But sliould 1 give it vent, 
The longest night, though longer far, would fail, 
And the lark listen to my midnight song. 

The sprightly lark's shrill matin wakes the mom 5 
Grief s sharpest thorn hard pressing on my breaat, 

1 strive, witii wakeful melody, to cheer 

The sullen gloom, sweet Philomel ! like thee, 

And call the stars to listen : every star 

Is deaf to mine, enamour'd of thy lay. 

Yet to be vain ; there are whothine^xcel. 

And charm through distant ages : wrapt in shade, 

Prisoner of darkness ! to the silent hours, 

How often E repeat their rage divine, 

To lull my griefs, and steal my heart from woe ! 

I roll their raptures, but not catch their fire. 

Dark, though not blind, like thee, Msonides ! 

Or Milton I thee ; ah ! could 1 reach your strain ! 

Or his, who made Maeonides our own. 

JMan too be sung : immortal man 1 sing ; 

Oft bursts my song beyond the bounds of life ; 

What now, but immortality, can please ,' 

'Oh had he press'd his theme, pursued the track 

Which opens out of darkness into day ! 

Oh had he, mounted on his wing of fire, 

Soar'd where 1 sink, and sung immortal man ! 

ijiuw had it bless'd mankind, and rescued nie ! 



K 



Uv, 






NIGHT THE SECOND, 



TIME, DEATH, AND FRIENDSHIP. 



To THE Right Ilorr. the Earl of Wilmington. 



"When the cock crew, he wept;" — smote by that eye, 
Which looks on mc, on all : that power, who bids 
This midniffht sentinel, with clarion ^^hrill *• 

(Emblem of that which shall awake the dead^) 
Rouse souls from slumber into thoughts of Heaven, j 
Shall r too weep ? Where then is fortitude ? 
And fortitude abandon'd, where is man .' 
I know the terms on which he sees the light : 
He that is born, is listed; life is war j 
Eternal war with woe. Who bears it best, 
Deserves, it least. — On other themes I'll dwell. 
LoHENzo! let me turn my thoughts on thee; 
And thine, on themes may profit : profit there, 
WIfere most thy need: themes,too,the genuine growth 
Of dearPniLANDER's dust. He, thus, thougli dead. 
May still befriend. — What themes? Time's wondrous 
Death, friendship, andlPHiLANDER's final scene, [price, 
So could I touch these themes, as might obtain 
Thine ear, nor leave thy heart quite disengaged, 
The good deed would delight me; half impress 
On my dark cloud an Iris ; and from grief 
Call glory — Dost thou mourn Philander's fate ? 
I know, thou say'st it: says thy life the same? 
He mourns the dead, who lives as they desire. 
Where is that thrift, that avarice of Time, 
(0 glorious avarice !) thought of death inspires, 
As.rumour'd robberies endear our gold ? 
O time ! than gold more sacred ;4more a load 
Than lead to fools ; and fools reputed wise. 
What moment granted man without account ? 
What years are squander'd, wisdom's debt unpaid ? 
Our wealth in days, all due to that discharge. 



22 THE COMPLAINT. [Xight II. 

Haste, haste, he lies in wait, he's at the door, 
Insidious death ! should his stronchand arrest. 
No composition sets the prisoner free. 
Eternity's inexor.ible chain 
Fast binds ; and vengeance claims the full arrear. 

How late 1 shudder'd on the brink '. how late 
Life call'd for her. last refuge in despair ! 
That time is mine, O Mead ! to thee I owe ; 
Fain would I pay thee with eternity. 
But ill my genius answers my desire ; 
My sickly song is mortal past thy cure. 
Accept the will ; — that dies not with my strain. 

For what calls thy disease, Lorenzo? not 
For Esculapian, but for moral aid. 
Thou think'st it folly, to be wise too soon. 
Youth is not rich in time, it may be, poor ; 
Part with it as with money, sparing ; pay 
No moment, but in purchase of its worth ; 
And what its worth, ask death-beds, they can tell. 
Part with it as with life, reluctant ; big 
With holy hope of nobler time to come ; 
Time higher aim'd, still nearer the great mark 
Of men and angels ; virtue more divine. 

Is this our duty, wisdom, glory, gain ? 
(These Heaven benign in vital union binds,) 
And sport we like the natives of the bough. 
When vernal suns inspire ? Amusement reigns 
Man's great demand ; to trifle is to live : 
And is it then a trifle, too, to die ? 

Thou say'st I preach, Lorenzo ! 'Tis confess'd 
What if, for once, I preach thee quite awake ! 
Who wants amusement in the flame ofbfittle? 
Is it not treason to the soul immortal, » 

Her foes in arms, eternity the prize ? 
Will toys amuse, when medicines cannot cure ? 
When spirits ebb, when life's enchanting scenes 
Their lustre lose, and lessen in our sight. 
As lands, and cities with their glittering spires, 
To the poor shatter'd bark, by sudden storm 
Thrown off" to sea, and soon to perish there .' 
Will toys amuse .^ No: thrones will then be toys. 
And earth and skies seem dust upon the scale. 

Redeem we time .'' — Fts loss we dearly buy. 
What pleads Lorenzo for his high-prized sports? 
He pleads time's numerous blanks ; he loudly pleads 
The straw-like trifles on life's common stream. , ^ 
From whom those blanks and trifles, but from thee? 
No blank, no trifle, nature made, or meant. 
Virtue, or purposed virtue, still he thine : 
This cancels thy complaint at once ; this leaves 
In act no trifle, and no blank in time. 



ON TIME, DEATH, FrJENDSHir; 23 

Tliis greatcns, lills, immortalizes, all ; 

Tliis, the blest art of tuinin"; all to gold ; 

This, the good lieart's preiof,fative, to raise 

A royal tribute from the poorest h^rs : 

Immense revenue ! every moment pays; 

If nothing niore than piirposu in thy jioU'ef j 

Thy purpose firin is equal to the deed : 

Who does the best his circumstance allows, 

Does well, acts nobly ; anirels could no more: 

Our outward act, indeed, admits reetraiht ; 

'Tis not in-things, o'er thought to domineei-. 

Guard Well thy thought; our thoughts are hoard inlTea- 

On all important Ti;ne, through every age, , [ven. 
Tho' much, and warm, the wise have urged ; the man, 
Is yet unborn, who duly weiehs an hour. 

" I've lost a day" the prince who nobly cried, 

Had been an emperor without his crown ; 
Of Rome? say, rather, lord of humar) race : 
He, spoke, as if deputed by maiikind. 
So should al! speak : so reason speaks in all : 
From tile soft whispers of that GM in than. 
Why fly to folly, why to frenzy fly, 
For "rescue from the blessing we possess ? 
Time the sujjreme !— Time is eternity ; 
Pregnant with all eternity can give ^ 
Pregnant with all that makes archangels smile; 
Who murders time, he crushes in the birth 
A power ethereal, only not adored. 

•Ah, hoW tinjust to nature, and himself, 
Is thoughtless, tiianklcss, inconsistent man ! 
Like children babbling nonsense in their sports, 
We censure nature for a span too sliort : 
That span too short, we tax as tedious too 5 
Torture invention, all expedients tire^ 
To lash the lingering moments into speed. 
And whirl us (happy riddance !) from ourselves. 
Art, brainless art ! our furious charioteer 
(For nature's voice unstifled would retail,) 
Drives headlong towards the precipice of death ; 
Death, most our dread;death,thus more dreadful made; 
Oh what a riddle of absurdity ! 
Leisure is pain ; takes oft' our chariot wheels : 
How heavily we drag the load of life I 
Blest leisure is our curse : like that of Cain, 
It makes us wander ; wander earth around 
To fly that tyrant, thought. As Atlas croan'd 
The world beneath, we groan beneath an hour 
We cry for mercy to the next amusement : 
The next amusement mortgages our fields ; 
Slight inconvenience! prisons hardly frown, 
From hateful time if prisons set us free; 



24 THE CO.MPLAIXT. [.\icht 11. 

Yet when death kindly tejiders us relief, 
We call him cruel ; years to moments shrink, 
Ages to years. Tl^ telescope is tiirn'd. 
To man's false opmis (from his folly false) 
Time, in advance, behind him hides his wings, 
And seems to creep, decrepit with his age : 
Behold him, when past by ; what then is seen, 
But his broad pinions swifter than the winds .' 
And ail mankind, in contradiction strong. 
Rueful, aghast ! cry out on his career. 

Leave to thy foes these errors, and these ills ; 
To nature just, their cause and cure explore. 
Not short Heaven's bounty, boundles!^ our expense : 
No niggard, nature ; men are prodigals. 
We waste, not use, our time ; we bveathe, not live. 
Time wasted is existence, used is life : 
And bare existence, man, to live ordain'd, 
Wrings, and oppresses with enormous weight. 
And why .'' since time was given for use, not waste, 
P^njoined to fly ; with tempest, tide, and stars, 
To keep his speed, nor ever wait for man. 
Time's use was doom'd a pleasure : waste, a pain ; 
That man might feel his error, if unseen : 
And, feeling, fly to labour for his cure ; 
Not, blundering, split on idleness for ease. 
Life's cares are comforts, such by Heaven design'd : 
He that has none, must make them, or be wretched. 
( 'ares are employments ; and without employ 
The soul is on a rack ; the rack of rest. 
To souls most adverse ; action all their joy. 

Here then, the riddle, niark'd above, unfolds: 
Then lime turns torment, when man turns a fool. 
We rave, we wrestle with great nature's plan : 
We thwart the Deity ; and 'tis decreed, 
Wl^o thwart his will, shall contradict their own. 
Hence our unnatural quarrels with ourselves ; 
Our thoughts at enmity : our bosom-broils : 
We push time from us, and we wish him back j 
Lavish of lustrums, and yet fond of life ; 
Life we think long, and short ; death seek and shun; 
Pody and soul, like peevish man and wife. 
United jar, and yet are loth to pnrt. 

Oh the dark days of vanity ! while here, 
■JIow tasteless ! and how terrible, when gone ! 
<^orie ? they ne'er go ; when past, they haunt us still: 
The spirit walks of every day deceased ; 
And smiles an angel, or a fury frowns, 
Nor death, nor life, delight us. ff time past. 
And time possess'd, both pain us, what can please? 
That which the Deity to please ordain'd, 
Time used. The man who consecrates his hours 



0.\ TIME, DEATir, FKIEXDSHIP. 25 

By vigorous effort, and an honest aim, 

At once lie draws the stins,' of life and death: 

He walks with nature ; and lier paths are peace. 

Our error's cause and4:ure are sWn : see next 
Time's nature, orisin, importance, speed ; 
And tliy great gain from urging his career.— 
All-sensual man, because untouch'd, unseen, 
He looks on time as nothing, — Nothing else 
Is truly man's ; 'tis fortune's. — Time's a god. 
Hast thou ne'er heard of time's omnipotence ? 
For, or against, what wonders can he do ! 
And will : to stand blank neuter he disdains. 
Not on those terms was Time(heaven's stranger!) sent 
On his important embassy to man. 
Lorenzo ! no : on the long-destined hour. 
From everlasting ages growing ripe, 
That memorable" hour of wondrous birth. 
When the Dread giKE, on emanation bent, 
And big with nature, rising in his might, 
Call'd forth creation (for then Time was born,) 
Bv Godhead streaming through a thousand worlds ; 
Not on those terms, from the great days of heaven. 
From old eternity's mysterious orb, 
Was time cut off and cast beneath the skies : 
The skies, which watch him in his new abode, 
Measuring his motions by revolving spheres ; 
That horologe machinery divine. 
Hours, days, and nionths,and years,his children, play, 
Like numerous, wings, around him as he flies : 
Or rather, as unequal plumes, they shape 
His ample pinions, switH as darted flame. 
To gain his goal, to reach his ancient rest. 
And join anew Eternity his sire 5 
In his immutability to nest, 

When worlds, that count his circles now, unhinged 
(Fate the loud signal sounding,) iieadlong rush 
To timeless night and chaos, whence they rose. 

Why spur the speedy ? Wliy with levities 
New-wing thy Short, short day's too rapid flight .' 
Know'st thou, or what thou dost, or what is done .' 
Man flies from time, and time from man ; too soon 
In s^d divorce this double flight must end : 
And then, where are we .' where, Lorenzo . then 

Thy sports ? thy pomps ? T grant thee, in a state 

Not unambitious ; in the ruffled shroud, 
Thy Parian tomb's triumphant arcli beneath. 
Has death his fopperies ? Then well may life 
Put on her plume, and in her rainbow shine. 

Ye well-array 'd '. ye lilies of our land ! 
Ye lilies male ! who neither toil, nor spin, 
(As sister lilies might ;) if not so wise 



26 THE COMPLA[XT. [xN'ightII. 

As Solomon, more stunptuous to tlie sight ! 

Ye delicdte ! wild riolilirig can support, 

Yourselves most iiisupportable ! for whom 

The winter rose n^t blow, the sun put on 

A brighter beam iirLeo ; siIkj--soft 

Favoniiis breathe still softer, orbedhid ; 

And other worlds send odours, sauce, and song, 

And robes, and notions, framed in foreign looms ! 

O ye LoRENZos ofourage ! who deem 

One moment uiiamused, a misery 

Not made for feeble man ! who call aloud 

For every bauble drivel'd o'er by sense ; 

For rattles, and conceits of every cast. 

For change of follies, and relays of joy, 

To draL' you patient througli the tedious length 

Of a short winter's day — say, sJises ! say, 

AVit's oracles ! say, dreamers of gay dreams ! 

How will you weather an eternal night, 

Where siich expedients fail ? 

O treacherous conscience ! while she seems to sleep 
On rose and myrtle, luli'd with Syren songj 
While she seems, nodding o'er her charge, to drop 
On headlong appetite the slacken'd rein. 
And give us up to license, unrecall'd, 
(Jnmark'd ; see, from behind her secret stand, 
The sly informer minutes fevery fault, 
And her dread diary with horror fills. 
Not the gross act alone employs her pen • 
She reconnoitres fancy's airy band, 
A watchful foe I the formidable spy, 
Listening, o'erhears the wliispers of our camp j 
Our dawning purposes of heart explores, 
And steals our embryos of iniquity- 
As all rapacious usurers conceal 
Their doomsday-book fromall-cbnsuming heirs ; 
Thus, with indulgence most severe, she treats 
Us spendthrifts of inestimable time ; 
Unnoted, notes each moment misapplied ; 
In leaves more dtilable than leaves of brass. 
Writes odr whole history : which death shall read 
Fn every pale delinqtient's private ear; 
And judgment publish ; publish to more worlds 
Than this ; and endless age in groans resound. 
Lorenzo, such that sleeper in Ujy breast ! 
Such is hei- slumber ; and her vengeance such, 
For slighted counsel ; such thy future peace,! 
And tliink'st thou still thou canst be wise too soon ? 

But why on Time so lavish is my song.' 
On this great theme kind Nature keeps a school. 
To teach her sons herself: each night we die, 
Each morn arc born anew : each day, a life ! 



ON TIME, DEATH, FRIENDSHIP. ! 

And shall we kill each day ? If trifling kills, 

Sure vice must butcher. Oh what heaps of slain 

Crj' out for ven]G;eance on us ! Time destroy'd 

Is suicide, where more than blood is^pilt. 

Time flies, death urges, knells call. Heaven invites, 

Hell threatens : all exerts ; in effort, all ; 

More than creation labours ! labours more .' 

And is there in creation, what amidst 

This tumult universal, wing'd dispatch, 

And ardent energy, supinely yawns ? 

Man sleeps ; and man alone fandman, whose fate, 
Fate irreversible, entire, extreme. 
Endless, hair-hung, breeze-shaken, o'er the gulf 
A moment trembles ; drops I and man, for whom 
All else is in alarm ! man, the sole cause 
Of this surrounding storm ! and yet he sleeps. 
As the storm rock'd to rest. — Throw years away ! 
Throw empires, and be blameless. Moments seize, 
Heaven's on their wing : a mouient we may wish. 
When worlds want wealth to buy. Bid day stand stjllj 
Bid him drive back his car, and re-import 
This period past, re-give the given hour. 
Lorenzo, more than miracles we want : 
Lorenzo — Oh for yesterday to come ? 

Such is the language of the man awake j 
His ardour such, for what oppresses thee. 
And is his ardour vain, Lorenzo.'' No; 
That more than miracle the gods indulge-: 
Tp-day is yesterday return'd ; return'd 
Full power'd to cancel, expiate, raise, adorn, 
And reinstate us on the rock of peace. 
Let it not share its predecessor's fate ; 
Nor, like its elder sisters, die a fool. 
Shall it evaporate in fume? fly ofl^ 
Fuliginous, and stain us deeper still.' 
Shall we be poorer for the plenty pour'd .' 
More wretched for the clemencies of Heaven? 

Where shall I find Him ? Angels ! tell me where , 
You know him ; He is near you : point him out : 
Shall I see glories beaming from his brow .' 
Or trace his footsteps by the rising flowers ? 
Your golden wings, now hovering o'er him, shed 
Protection ; now, are waving in applause 
To that blessed son of foresight ; lord of fate I 
That awful independant on To-morrow ! 
Whose work is done ; who triumphs in the past ; 
Whose 5'^esterdays look backwards witli.a smile ; 
Nor, like the Parthian, wound him as they fly ; 
That common, but opprobrious lot I past hours, 
If not by guilt, yet wound us by their flight, 
If folly bounds our prospect by the grave. 



28- THE COMPLAINT. [Night II. 

All feeling of futurity benuinb'd ; 

All god-like passions for eternals quench'd; 

AH relish of realities expired ; 

Renounced all coiVespondence with the skies ; 

Our freedom chain'd ; quite \vini,'less our desire j 

In sense dark-prison'd all that*ou{iht to soarj 

Prone to the centre ; crawling in the dust j 

Dismounted every great and glorious aim ; 

Imbruted every faculty divine; 

Heart-buried in the rubbish of the world. 

The world, that gulf of soul?, immortal souls, 

Souls elevate, angelic, wing'd with fire 

To reach the distant skies and triumph there 

On thrones, which shall not mourn their masters 

changed, 
Though we from earth ; ethereal, they that fell. 
Such veneration due, O man, to man. 

Who venerate themselves, the world despise. 
For what gay friend I is this escutcheon'd world, 
Which hangs out Death in one eternal night ! 
A night, that glooms us in the noon-tide ray. 
And wraps our thought, at banquets, in the shroud. 
Life's little stage is a small eminence. 
Inch-high the grave above, that home of man, 
Where dwells the multitude : we gaze around ; 
We read their monuments ; we sigh ; and while 
We sigh, we sink ; and are what we deplored j 
Lamenting, or lamented, all our lot! 

Is death at distance? No: he has been on tliee; 
And given sure earnest of his final blow. 
Those hours that lately smiled, where are they now? 
Pallid to thought, and ghastly ! drown'd, all drown'd 
In that great deep, which nothing disembogues ! 
And, dying, they bequeath'd thee small renown. 
The rest are on the wing : how fleet their flight • 
Already has the fatal train took fire : 
A moment, and the world's blown up to thee j 
The sun is darkness, and the stars are dust. 

*Tis greatly wise to talk with our past hours ; 
And ask them, what report they bore to heaven ; 
And how they might have borne more welcome news. 
Their answers form what men experience call ; 
If wisdom's friend, her best ; if not, worst foe. 
Oh reconcile them ! Kind experience cries, 
" There's nothing hese, but what as nothing Weighs : 
The mo/e our joy, the more we know it vain ; 
And by success are tutor'd to despair." 
Nor is it only thus, but must be so. 
Who knows not this, though grey, is still a child ; 
Loose them from earth the grasp of fond desire, 
Weigh anchor, and some happier clime explore. 



ON TIME, DEATH, FRIEjVDSIIIP. 29 

Art thou 90 moor'd thou canst not disenjjajje, 
Nor give thy thoughts a ply to future scenes ? 
Since by life's passing breath, blown up from earth. 
Light, as the summer's dust, we take in air 
A moment's giddy flight, and fall again ; 
Join the dull mass, increase the trodden soil. 
And sleep till earth lierself shall be no n)ore : 
Since then (as emmets, their small world o'erthrown) 
We, sore amazed from out earth's ruins crawl, 
And rise to fate extreme of foul or fair. 
As man's own choice (conrroller of the skies I) 
As man's despotic will, perhaps one hour, 
(Oh how omnipotent is time !) decrees ; 
Should not each warning give a strong alarm ? 
Warning, far less than that of bosom torn 
From bosom, bleeding o'er the sacred dead I 
Should not each dial strike us as we pass, 
Portentious, as the written wall, which struck, 
O'er midnight bowls, the proud Assyrian pale, 
Erewhile high flush'd, with insolence and wine ? 
Like that, the dial speaks ; and points to thee, 
Lorenzo 1 loth to break thy banquet up : 
*' O man, thy kingdom is departing from thee ; 
And, while it lasts, is emptier than my shade." 
Its silent language such ! nor need'st thou call 
Thy Magi, to decipher what it means. 
Know, like the Median, fate is in thy walls : 
Dost ask. How ! Whence .' Belshazzar like, amazed ? 
Man's make encloses the sure seeds of death ; 
Life feeds the murderer : ingrate ! he thrives 
On her own meal, and then his nurse devours. 

But here, Lorenzo, the delusion lies ; 
That solar shadow, as it measures life. 
It life resembles too : life speeds away 
From point to point, though seeming to stand still : 
The cunning fugitive is swift by stealth : 
Too subtle is the movement to be seen ; 
Yet soon man's hour is up, and we are gone. 
Warnings point out our danger ; gnomons, time : 
As these are useless when the sun is set ; 
So those, but when more glorious reason shines. 
Reason should judge in all ; in reason's eye, 
That sedentary shadow travels hard. 
But such our gravitation to the wrong, 
So prone our hearts to whisper what we wish, 
'Tis laterwith the wise than he's awate. 
A Wilmington goes slower than the sun : 
And all mankind mistake their time of day ; 
Even age itself. Fresh hopes are hourly sown 
In furrow'd brows. To gentle life's descent 
We shut our eyes, and think it is a plaia. 



30 THE COIMPLAINT. [Night ll 

We take fair days in winter for the spring ; 
And turn our l)lessings into bane. Sinceolt 
Man must compute that age he cannot feel, 
He scarce believes he's older for his years. 
Thus, at life's latest eve, we keep in store 
One disappointment sure, to crown the rest; 
The disappointment of a promised hour. 

On this, or similar, Phlilander! thou, 
Whose mind was moral, as the preacher's tongue ; 
And strong to wield all science, worth the name; 
How often we talk'd down the summer's sun, 
And cool'd our passions by the breezy stream I 
How often thaw'd and shorten'd winter's eve, 
I5v conflict kind, that struck our latent truth. 
Best found, so sought ; to the recluse more coy ! 
Thoughts disentangle passing o'er the lip ; 
Clean runs the thread ; if not, 'tis thrown away, 
Or kept to tie up nonsense for a song : 
Pong, fashionably fruitless ; such as stains 
The fancy, and unhallowed passion fires ; 
Clmning her saints to Cythereo's fane. 

Know'st thou, Lorenzo ! what a friend contains^ .• 
As bees mix'd nectar draw from fragrant flowers, i •• 
So men from Friendship, wisdom and delight; A 

Twins tied by nature, if they part they die. ! 

Hast thou no" friend to set thy mind abroach ? ,;_ 

Good sense will stagnate : thoughts shut up want air^ i 
And spoil, like bales unopen'd to the sun. 
Had thought been all, sweet speech had been denied ; 
Speech, thought's canal! speech, thought's criterion tooS 
Thought in the mine, may come forth gold or dross },. , 
When coin'd in words, we know its real worth. 
If sterling, store it for thy future use ; 
'Twill buy thee benefit; perhaps, renown. 
Thought, too,delivcr'd is the more possess'd ! 
Teaching, we learn ; and, giving, we retain 
The births of intellect ; when duuib, forgot. 
Speech ventillates our intellectual fire : 
Speech burnishes our mental magazine ; 
Brightens, or ornaments ; and whets for use. 
What numbers, sheath'd in erudition, lie. 
Plunged to the hilts in venerable tomes. 
And rusted in ; who might have borne an edge, 
And play'd a sprightly beam, if born to speech ; 
If born bless'd heirs of half their mother's tongue. 
'Tis thought's exchange ; which, like th'alternate push 
Of waves conflicling, breaks the learned scum. 
And defecates the student's standing pool. 

In contemplation is his proud resource? 
*Tis poor, as proud, by converse unsustain'd. 
Rude thought runs wild in contemplation's field ; 
' - / 



ON TIME, DEATH, FRIEXDPIIIP. 

Converse, the mennge, breaks it to tlift hit 

Of due restraint ; and emnlntioii's spur 

Gives graceful enerjry, by rivals awed. 

'Tis converse qualifies for solitude ; 

As exercise, for salutary rest. 

By that untutor'd, contemplation raves ; 

And nature's fool, by wisdom's is outdone. 

Wisdom, though richer than Peruvian mines, 
And sweeter than the sweet ambrosial hive, 
What is she, but the means of happiness ? 
That unobtained, than folly more a fool ; 
A melancholy fool, without her bells. 
Friendship, the means of wisdom, richly jrives 
The precious end, which makes our wisdom wise. 
Nature, in zeal for human amity. 
Denies, or damps, an undivided joy. 
Joy is an import ; joy is an exchange ; 
Joy flies monopolists : it calls for two ; 
Kich fruit ! Heaven planted ! never pluck'd by one. 
A^eedful auxiliars are our friends, to give 
To social man true relish of himself. 
Full on ourselves, descending in a line, 
Pleasure's bright beam is feeble in delight ; 
Delight intense, is taken by rebound ; 
Reverberated pleasures fire the breast. 

Celestial Happiness, whene'er she stoops 
To visit earth, one shrine the goddess finds. 
And one alone, to make her sweet amends 
For absent heaven— the bosom of a friend ; 
AVhere heart meets heart, reciprocally soft, 
Each other's pillow to repose divine. 
Beware the counterfeit ; in passion's flame 
Hearts melt ; but melt like ice, soon harder froze. 
True love strikes root in reason ; passion's foe : 
Virtue alone entenders us for life : 
I wrong her much — entenders us for ever. 
Of Friendship's fairest fruits, the fruit most fair 
la virtue, kindling at a rival fire, 
And, emulously, rapid in her race. 
O the soft enmity ! endearing strife ! 
This carries friendship to her noon-tide point. 
And gives the rivit of eternity. 

From friendship, which outlives my former themes, 
Glorious survivor of old time and death I 
From friendship thus, that flower of heavenly seed 
The wise extract earth's most Hyblean bliss, 
Superior wisdom, crown'd with smiling joy. 

But for whom blossoms this Elj'sian flower .' 
Abroad they find, who cherish it at home. 
LoREX7 ! p?rdon iiMm*. my love extorts ; 
An honest love, and not afraid to frown. 



32 THE COMPLALNT. [Night II. 

Tliough choice of follies fasten on the great, 
None clings more obstinate, than Aincy fond 
That sacred friendship is tlieir eapy prey ; 
Caught by the wafture of a golden lure,' 
Or fascination of a high born smile. 
Their smiles, the great, and the coquette, throw out 
For others' hearts, tenacious of their own ; 
And we no less of ours, when sucli the bait. 
Ye fortune's cofferers ! ye powers of wealth ! 
Can gold gain friendship? Impudence of hope ! 
As well mere man an angel might beget. 
Love, and love only, is the loan for love. 
Lorenzo ! pride repress ; nor hope to hnd 
A friend, but what has found a friend in thee. 
AH like the purchase ; few the price will pay : 
And this makes friends such miracles below. 

What if (since daring on so nice a theme) 
1 show thee friendship delicate as dear, 
Of tender violations apt to die? 
Reserve will wound it ; and distrust, destroy. 
Deliberate on all things with thy friend. 
But since friends grow not thick on evejy bough, 
Nor every friend unrotten at the core ; 
First, on thy friend, deliberate v>'ith thyself: 
Pause, ponder, sift ; not eager in the choice, 
Nor jealous of the chosen ; fixing, fix: 
Judge before friendship, then confide till death. 
Well, for thy friend ; but nobler far for thee : 
How gallant danger for earth's highest prize ! 
A friend ii worth all hazards we can run. 
" Poor is the friendless master of a world: 
A W3rld in purchase of a friend is gain." 

So sung he (Angels hear that angel sing ! 
Angels from friendship gather half their joy :) 
So suiTg Philander, as his friend went round 
In the rich ichor, in the generous blood 
Of Bacchus, purple god of joyous wit, 
A bro A' solute, and ever-laughing eye. 
He drank long health, and virtue, to his friend 5 
His friend, who warrn'd him more, who more inspir'd. 
Friendship's the wine of life ; but friendship new 
(Not such was his) is neither strong, nor pure. 
Oh for the bright complexion, cordial warmth, 
And elevating spirit, of a friend. 
For twenty summers ripening by my side ; 
All feculence of falsehood long thrown down ; 
All social virtues rising in his soul j 
As crystal clear ; and smiling as they rise ! 
Here nectar floivs : it sparkles in our sight ; 
Rich to the taste, aiid genuine from the heart. 
High-fiavo^ir'd bliss for gods I on earth howrare.. 



Ox\ TIME, DEATH, FIIIENDSIIIP. 33 

On earth how lof-t ! Philander is no more. 

Tliiiik'st thou the theme intoxicates my song ? 
Am I too warm ? — Too warm I cannot be. 
I lov'd Jiim nnicli ; but now I love him more. 
Like birds, whose beauties lancuisli, lialf conceal'd, 
Till, mounted on their wing, their glossy plumes 
Expanded shine with azure, green, and gold ; 
How blessings brighten as they take their flight 1 
His flight Philander took ; his upward flight, 
If ever soul ascended. Had he dropp'd, 
(That eagle genius !) O had lie let fall 
One feather as he flew ; I then had wrote. 
What friends might flatter; prudent foes forbear ; 
Rivals scarce damn ; and Zoilus reprieve. 
Yet what I can, I must : it were profane 
To quench a glory lighted at the skies. 
And cast in shadows his illustrious close. 
Strange ! the theme most affecting, most sublime, 
JMoinentous most to man, should sleep unsung I 
And yet it sleeps, by genius unawaked, 
Painim or Christian ; to the blush of wit. 
Man's highest triumph ! man's profound est fall '. 
The death-bed of the just ! is yet undrawn 
By mortal hand ; it merits a divine : 
Angels should paint it, angels ever there; 
There, on a post of honour, and of joy. 

Dare I presume, then ? But Philander bids; 

And glory tempts, and inclination calls 

Yet am I struck ; as struck the soul, beneath 
Aerial groves imp)enetrable gloom ; 
Or, in some mighty ruin's solemn shade ; 
Or, gazing by pale lamps on high-born dust, 
In vaults ; thin courts of poor unflatter'd kings; 
Or, at the midnight alter's hallow'd flame. 

It is religion to proceed : I pause 

And enter, awed, the temple of my theme. 
Is it his death-bed ? No : it is his shrine : 
Behold him, there, just rising to a god. 

The chamber where the good man meets his fate, 
Is priviledged beyond the common walk 
Of virtuous life, quite in the verge of heaven. 
Fly, ye profane ! if not, draw near with awe, 
Receive the blessing, and adore the chance. 
That threw in this Bethesda your disease : 
If unrestor'd by this, despair your cure : 
For here, resistless demonstration dwells j 
A death-bed's a detector of the heart. 
Here, tired dissimulation drops lier mask ; 
Througli life's grimace, that mistress of the scene! 
Here, real and apparent are the same. 
You see the man ; you see his hold on heaven : 
C 



34 THE COMPLAL\T. [Xicht II. 

If sound his virtue ; asPHiLA>-DER'9, sound. 
Heaven waits not the last moment ; owns her friends 
On this side death ; and points them out to men : 
A lecture, silent, but of sovereign power I 
To vice, confusion ; and to virtue, peace. 

Whatever farce the boastful hero plays, 
Virtue alone has majesty in death ; 
And greater still, the more the tyrant frowns. 
Philander ! he severely frown'd on thee. 
" No warning given ! Unceremonious fate I 
A sudden nish from life's meridian joy! 
A wrench from all we love ! from all we are ! 
A restless bed of pain ! a plunge opaque 
Beyond conjecture ! feeble nature's dread ! 
Strong reason's shudder at the dark unknown ! 
A sun extinguished I a just -opening grave! 
And oh ! the last, last, what ? (can words express .' 
Thought reach it i") the last silence of a friend !" 
Where are those horrors, that amazement where. 
This hideous group of ills (which singly shock) 
Demands from man I — I thought him man till now. 

Through nature's wreck, through vanish'd agonies 
(Like the stars struggling through this midnight gloom,) 
What gleams of joy 1 what more than human peace ! 
Where the frail mortal ? the poor abject worm ? 
No, not in death, the mortal to be found. 
His conduct is a legacy for all. 
Richer than Mammon's fbr his single heir- 
His comforters he comforts j great in ruin, 
"With uureluctant grandeur, gives, not yields, 
His soul sublime J and closes with his fate. 

How our hearts burn'd within us at the scene ! 
Whence this brave bound o'er limits fix'd to man i" 
His God sustains him in his final hour! 
His final hour brings glory to his God I 
Man's glory heaven vouchsafes to call her own. 
We gaze, we weep ; mix'd tears of grief and joy ! 
Amazement strikes! devotion bursts to flame! 
Christians adore ! and infidels believe ! 

As some tall tower, or lofty mountain's brow, 
Detains the sun, illustrious from its height j 
While rising vapours, and descending shades, 
With damps, and darkness, drown the spacious vale, 
Undamp'd by doubt, undarken'd by despair. 
Philander, thus, augustly rears his head, 
At that black hour, which general horror sheds 
On the low level of the inglorious throng: 
Sweet peace, and heavenly hope, and humble joy, 
Divinely beam on his exalted soul, 
Destruction gild, and crown him for the skies, 
With incommunicable lustre, briglit. 



NIGHT THE THIRD. 



NARCISSA. 



To Her Grack the Duchess of P- 



Ignoscenda quidem, scir ent si ignoscere manes. — Virgil, 



From dreams, where thoucht in fancy's maze runs mad, 
To reason, that heaven-lifihled lamp in man. 
Once more I wake ; and at the destined hour, 
Punctual as lovers to the moment sworn, 
I keep my assicnution with my woe. 

O : lost to virtue, lost to manly thought, 
Lost to the noble sallies of the soul I 
Who think it solitude to be alone. 
Communion sweet I communion large and high J 
Our reason, guardian angel, and our God ! 
Then nearest these, when others most remote j 
And all, ere long, siiall be remote, but these. 
How dreadful, then, to meet them all alone, 
A stranger I unacknowledged ! unapproved I 
Now wot) them ; wed them ; bind them to thy breast : 
To win thy wish, creation has no more. 
Or if we wish a fourth, it is a friend. — 
But friends, how mortal ! dangerous the desire. 

Take PnofEBUs to yourselves, ye basking bards ! 
Inebriate at fair fortune's fountain-head ; 
And reeling through the wilderness of joy ; 
WJiere sense runs savage, broke from reason's chain, 
And sings false peace, till smother'd by the pall. 
My fortune is unlike ; unlike my song 5 
Unlike the deity my song invokes. 
I to Day's sofl-cyed sister pay my court, 
(I^NDVMiorf's rival !) and her aid implore ; 
Now first implored in succour to the muse. 

Thou, who didst lately borrow* Cvnthia's form, 

* At the Duke of Norfolk's masquerade. 



S6 THE COMPLAINT. [Night III 

And modestly forego tliine own '. O thou, 
Who didst tJiyself, at midnight hours, inspire ! 
Say, why not Cynthia patroness of song ? 
As thou her crescent, she thy character, 
Assumes ; still more a goddess by the change. 
Are there demurring wits, who dare dispute 
This revolution in the world inspired ? 
Ye train Pierian ! to the lunar sphere, 
In silent hour, address your ardent call 
For aid immortal : less her brother's right. 
She, with the spheres harmonious, nightly leads 
The mazy dance, and hears their matchless strain j 
A strain for gods, denied to mortal ear. 
Transmit it heard, thou silver queen of Heaven ! 
What title, or what name, endears thee most ? 
Cynthia! Cyllene ! Phcebe ! — or dost hear, 

With higher gust, fair P d of the skies I 

Is that the soft enchantment calls thee down, 

More powerful than of old Circean charm ? 

Come ; but from heavenly banqi»ets with thee bring 

The soul of song, and whisper in mine ear 

The theft divine ; or in propitious dreams 

(For dreams are thine) transfuse it through the breast 

Of thy first votary but not thy last f 

If, like thy namesake, thou art ever kind. 

And kind thou wilt be ; kind on such a theme ; 
A theme so like thee, a quite lunar theme, '' 

Soft, modest, melancholy, female, fair ! 
A theme that rose all pale, and told my soul 
'Tvvas night ; on her fond hopes perpetual night ; 
A night which struck a damp, a deadlier damp, 
Than that which smote me from Philandek's tomb. 
Narcissa follows, ere his tomb is closed. 
Woes cluster ; rare are solitary woes ; 
They love a train&tread each other's heel : 
Her death invades his mournful right, and claims 
The grief that started from my lids for him ; • ' 

Seizes the faithless, alienated tear ; ;; 

Or shares it, ere it falls. So frequent death. 
Sorrow he more than causes, he confounds ; 
For human sighs his rival strokes contend. 
And make distress distraction. O Philander! 
What was thy fate ! A double fate to me ; 
Portent, and pain ! a menace, and a blow ! 
Like the black raven hovering o'er my peace ; 
Not less a bird of omen, than of prey. 
It call'd Narcissa long before her hour ; 
It call'd her tender soul, by break of bliss. 
From the first blossom, from the buds of joy ; 
Those few our noxious fate unblasted leaves 
In thia inclement clime of human life. 



'. NARCISSA. 37 

Sweet harmonist! anrl beautiful as sweet • 
And youiii; as licaiitifiil ! and soft as young I 
And cay as soft ! and innocent as gay 1 
And lia"p[»y (if aiipht liappy liere) as good ! 
For fortune fond Jiad built her nest on iiigh. 
Like birdrf quite exquisite of note and plume, 
Translix'd by fate (who loves a lofty mark,) 
How from tlie summit of the grove* he fell, 
And kll it unliarmonious ! all it? charms 
Exlinguish'd in tlie wonders of her song ! 
Her song still vibrates in my ravish'd ear, 
Still melting tiiere, and with voluptuous pain 
(Oil to forget lier !) thrilling through my heart ! 

Song, beauty, youth, love, virtue, joy, tliis group 
Of briglit ideas, flowers of paradise. 
As yet unforfeit ! in one blaze we bind. 
Kneel, and present it to the skies ! as all 
We guess of Heaven : and these were all her own. 
'And she was mine ; and I was — was ! — most bless'd— 
Gay title of the deepest misery ! 
As bodies grow more ponderous, robb'd of life : 
Good lost weighs more in grief, than gain'd, in joy. 
Like blossom'd trees o'erturn'd by vernal storm. 
Lovely in death the beauteous ruin lay : 
And if in death still lovely, lovelier there ; 
Far lovelier ! pity swells the tide of love. 
And will not the severe excuse a sigh ? 
Scorn the proud man that is ashamed to weep ! 
Our tears indulged indeed deserve our shame. 
He that e'er lost an angel ! pity me. 

Soon as the lustre languish'd in her eye. 
Dawning a dimmer day on human sight ; 
And on her cheek, the residence of spring, 
Pale omen sat ; and scatter'd fears around 
On all that saw (and who would cease to gaze. 
That once had seen ?) With haste, parental haste 
I flew, I snatch'd her from the rigid north. 
Her native bed, on which bleak Boreas blew, 
And bore her nearer to the sun ; the sun 

iAs if the sun could envy) check'd liis beam, 
)enied his wonted succour ; nor with more 
Regret behold her drooping, than the bells 
Of lilies; fairest lilies, not so fuir! 

tiueen lilies ! and ye painted populace ! 
Why dwell in fields, and lead ambrosial lives ; 
In morn and evening dew your beauties bathe, 
An<i drink the sun ; which gives your cheeks to glow 
And oiil-lilush (mine excepted) every fair ; ' 

You gladlier grew, ambitious of her hand. 
Which often cnipp'd your odours, incense meet 



88 THE COMPLAINT [Night III. 

To thought so pure I Ye lovely fugitives ! 
Coeval race with man ! for man you smile ; 
Why not smile at him too? You share indeed 
His sudden pass ! but not his constant pain. 

So man is made, nought ministers delight, 
But what his glowing passions can engage : 
And glowing passions, bent on aught below. 
Must, soon or late, with anguish turn the scale 5 
And anguish, after rapture, how severe ! 
Rapture ! Bold man ! vvlio tempts the wrath divine, 
By plucking fruit denied to mortal taste ; 
While here, presuming on tlje rights of Heaven. 
For transport dost thou call on every hour, 
Lorenzo? At thy friends expense be wise : 
Lean not on earth ; 'twill pierce thee to the heart ; 
A broken reed, at best ; but, oft, a spear ; 
On its sharp point peace bleeds, and hope expires. 

Turn, hopeless thought! turn from her: — Thought re- 
Resenting rallies, and wakes every woe. [pell'd 
Snatch'd ere thy prime ! and in thy bridal hour ! 
And when kind fortune, with thy lover, smiled ! 
And when higli-tiavour'd thy fresh opening joys ! 
And when blind man pronounced thy bliss complete ! 
And on a foreign shore ! where strangers wept ! 
Strangers to thee ; and, more surprising still. 
Strangers to kindness, wept : their eyes let fall 
Inhuman tears : strange tears ; tiiat trickled down 
From marble hearts ! obdurate tenderness I 
A tenderness that call'd them more severe ; 
In spite of nature's soft persuasion, steel'd j 
While nature melted, superstition raved ; 
That mourn'd the dead ; and this denied a grave. 

Their sighs incensed ; sighs foreign to the will ! 
Their will the tiger suck'd, outraged the storm. 
For oh ! the cursed ungodliness of zeal ! 
While sinful flesh relented, spirit nursed 
In blind infallibility's embrace. 
The sainted spirit petrified the breast ; 
Denied the charity of dust, to spread 
O'er dust I a charity their dogs enjoy. 
What could I do? what succour? what resource? 
With pious sacrilege, a grave 1 stole ; 
With impious piety, that grave I wrong'd ; 
Short in my duty ; coward in my grief! 
More like her murderer, than friend, I crept, 
With soft-suspended step, and, mutfled deep 
In midnight darkness, whisper'd my last sigh. 
I wliisper'd what should echo through their realms. 
Nor writ liername, whose tomb should pierce the 8kie«» 
Presumptuous fear : how durst I dread her foes, 
While nature's loudest dictates I obey'd ? 



NARCrSSA. 

Pardon necessity, bles^'d shade ! of uricf 
And indisnation rival bursts f pour'd : 
Half execrutien mingled witfi my pra\f r ; 
Kindled at man, while I his (lud adored ; 
Sore prndged the savage land Jier sacred dust ; 
8tamp'd the cursed soil ; and, with humanity 
Denied Narcissa, wish'd them all a trrave. 

Glows my resentment into cuilt ? What guilt 
Can equal violations of the dcnd ? 
The dead how sacred I Sacred is the dust 
Of this Ileaven-lahour'd form, erect, divine ! 
This Heaven-assumed jnajestic robe of earth 
He deign'd to wear, who hung the vast expanse 
With azure bright, and clothed the sun in gold. 
When every passion sleeps that can otlcnd i 
When strikes us every motive that can molt ; 
When man can wreak his rancour iincontroU'd, 
That strongest curb on insult and IH-will ; 
Then, spleen to dust ? the dust of innocence ? 
An angel's dust r — This Lucifer transcends : 
When he contended for the i)atriarch's bones, 
'Twas not the strife of malice, but of pride , 
Tiie strife of pontiff pride, not pontiff gall. 

Far less than this is shocking in a race 
Most wretched, but from streams of mutual love: 
And uncreated, but for love divine ; 
And, but for love divine, this moment, lost. 
By fate resorb'd, and sunk in endless night- 
IVIan, hard of heart to man ! of horrid things 
Blost horrid I 'mid stupendous, highly strange! 
Yet oft his courtesies are smotither wrongs; 
Pride brandishes the favours he confers, 
And contumelious his humanity : 
What then his vengeance? Hear it not, ye stars! 
And thou, pale moon ! turn paler at the sound ; 
Man is to man the sorest, surest iil. 
A previous Mast foretells the rising storm ; 
O'erwlulming turrets threaten ere they fall ; 
Vokaiioes bellow ere they disembogue ; 
Earth trembles ere her yawning jaws devour ; 
And smoke betrays the wide-consuming fire : 
Ruin from man is most conceal'd when near. 
And sends the dreadful tidings in the blow. 
Is this the flight of fancy ? Would it were ! 
Heaven's Sovereign saves all beings, butiiimself, 
That hidcousi«ight, a naked human heart. 

Fired is the muse ? And let the muse be fired : 
Who not inflamed, when what he speaks, he feeis, 
And in the nerve most tender, in his friends? 
Shame to mankind ! Philander had his foes; 
He felt the trutias I sing, and lia him. 



rt THE COMPLAINT. [Xight III, 

But he, nor 1, feel more : past ills, Narcissa » 

Ave sunk in tliee, tliou recent wound of heart ! 

Which bleeds with other cares, with oilier pangs ; 

Pangs numerous, as the numerous ills that swarni'd 

O'er thy distinguish'd fate, and, clustering there 

Thick as the locusts on the land of i\ile, 

Made death more deadly, and more dark the grave. 

Reflect (if not forgot my touching tale) 

How was each circumstance with aspics arm'd? 

An aspic each ! and all, an Hydra woe : 

What strong Herculean virtue could suffice? 

Or is it virtue to be conqiier'd here ? 

This hoary cheek a train of tears bedews ; 

And each tear mourns its own distinct distress; 

And each distress, distinctly mourn'd, demands 

Of grief still more, as heighten'd by the whole. 

A grief like this, proprietors excludes : 

Not friends alone such obsequies deplore ; 

They make mankind the mourner; carry sighs 

Far as the fatal Fame can wing her way ; 

And turn the gayest thought of gayest age, 

Down their right channel, through the vale of death. 

The vale of death ! that hush'd Cimmerian vale. 
Where darkness, broodii)g o'er unfinish'd fates, 
With raven wing incumbent, waits tiie day 
(Dread day !) that interdicts all future change ! 
That subterranean world, that land of ruin ! 
Fit walk, Lorenzo, for proud human thought ! 
There let my thoiight expatiate, and explore 
Balsamic truths, and healing sentiments ; 
Of all most wanted, and most welcome, here. 
For gay Lorenzo's sake, and for thy own, 
My soul ! " The fruits of dying friends survey ; 
Expose the vain of life ; weigh life and death ; 
Give death his eulogy ; thy fear subdue ; 
And labour that first palm of noble minds, 
A manly scorn of terror from the tomb." 

This harvest reap from thy Narcissa's grave. 
As poets feign'd, from Ajax*3 streaming blood 
Arose, with grief inscribed, a mournful flower j 
Let wisdom blossom from liiy mortal wound. 
And first, of dying fiiends ; what fruit from these? 
It brings us more than triple aid ; an aid 
To chase our thoughtlessness, fear, pride and guilt. 

Our dying friends come o*er us like a cloud, 
To damp our brainless ardours ; and abata. 
That glare of life, which often blinds the wise. 
Our dying friends are pioneers, to smooth 
Our rugged pass to death ; to break those bars 
Of terror, and abliorrence, nature throws 
Cross our obstructed way ; and, thus to jnaka 



NARCISSA. 

Welcome, as safe, our port from every storm. 

Each frieuil by fate siiatcli'd froii^ us, is a plume 

riuck'd from the wing of human vanity, 

Which makes us stoop from our aerial heights, 

And, damp'd with omen of our own decease, 

On drooping: pinions of ambition lower'd. 

Just skim earth's surface, ere we break it up ; 

O'er putrid earth to scratcli a little dust. 

And save the world a nuisance. Smitten friends 

Are angels sent on errands full of love ; 

For us they lansuish, and for us they die : 

And shall they languish, shall they die, in vain? 

Ungrateful, shall we grieve their hovering shades 

Which wait the revolutioji in our hearts .' 

Shall we disdain their silent, soft address ; 

Their posthumous advice, and pious prayer ? 

Senseless, as herds that gra/.e their hallow'd graves, 

Tread under foot their agonies and groans ; 

Frustrate their anguish, and destroy their deatbs ? 

Lorenzo ! no ; Ihe thought of death indulge ; 
Give it its wholesome empire ! let it reign, 
That kind chastiser of tliy soul in joy ! 
Its reign will spread thy glorious conquests far, 
And still the tumults of thy ruffled breast : 
Auspicious era ! golden days, begin ! 
The thought of death shall, like a god, inspir'?. 
And'why not think of death ! Is life the theme 
Of every thought .' and wish of every hour ? 
And song of every joy ? Surprising truth ! 
The beaten spaniel's fondness not so strange. 
To wave the numerous ills that seize on life 
As their own property, their lawful prey ; 
Ere man has measured half his weary stage, 
His luxuries have left him no reserve, 
No maiden relishes, unbroach'd delights; 
On cold-served repetitions he subsists, 
And in the tasteless present chews the past ;. 
Disgusted chews, and scarce can swallow down. 
Like lavish ancestors, his earlier years 
Have disinherited his future heirs. 
Which starve on orts, and glean their former field 

Live ever here, Lorenzo ? — shocking thought I 
Bo shocking, they who wish, disown it too ; 
Disown from shame, what they from folly crave. 
Live ever in the womb, nor see the light ? 
For what live ever here ? — With labouring step 
To tread our former footsteps .'' pace the round 
Eternal? to climb life's worn, heavy wheel. 
Which draws up nothing new ? to beat, and beat, 
The beaten track ? to bid each wretched day 
The former mock ? to surfeit on the same 



42 THE COMPLAINT. [ISight III. 

And yawn our jaws ? or thank a misery 

For change, though sad ? to see what we have seen ? 

Hear, till unheard, the same old slabher'd tale? 

To taste the tasted, and at each return 

Less tasteful ? o'er our palates to descant 

Another vintage? strain a flatter year, 

Through loaded vessels, and a laxer tone ? 

Crazy machines to grind earth's wasted fruits ! 

Ill ground, and worse concocted f load, not life ! 

Tlie rational foul kennels of excess ! 

Still streaming thoroughfares of dull debauch .' 

Trembling each gulp, Icst death should snatch the bowl. 

Such of our fine ones is the wish refined ! 
So would they have it : elegan^ desire I 
Why not invite the bellowing stalls, and wilds? 
But such examples might their riot awe. 
Through want of virtue, that is, want of thought 
(Though on bright thought they father all their flights,) 
To what are they reduced ? To love, andTiate, 
The same vain world ; to censure, and espouse, 
This painted shrew of life, who calls them fool 
Each moment of each day ; to flatter bad 
Through dread of worse ; to cling to this rude rock, 
Barren, to them, of good, and sharp with ills, 
And hourly blacken'd with impending storms, 

And infamous for wrecks of human hope 

Scared at the gloomy gulf, that yawns beneath : 
Such are their triumphs ! such their pangs of joy ! 

'Tis time, high time, to shift this dismal scene. 
This hugg'd this hideous state, what art can cure? 
One only; but that one, what all may reach ; 
Virtue — she, wonder-working goddess ! charms 
That rock to bloom ; and tames the painted shrew j 
And, what will more surprise, Lorexzo ! gives 
To life's sick, nauseous iteration, change ; 
And straightens nature's circle to a line. 
Believ'st thou this, LoREPfzo ? Lend an ear, 
A patient ear ; thou'lt blush to disbelieve. 

A languid, leaden iteration reigns, 
And ever must, o'er those whose joys are joys 
Of sight, smell, taste : the cuckow-seasons sing 
The same dull note to such as nothing prize. 
But what those seasons, from the teeming earth, 
To doting sense indulge. But nobler minds, 
Which relish fruits unripen'd by the sun, 
Make their days various ; various as the dyes 
On the dove's neck, which wanton in his rays. 
On minds of dove-like innocence possess'd, 
On lighten'd minds, that bask in virtue's beams. 
Nothing hangs tedious, nothing old revolves 
In that for which tJiey long, for which they live. 



NARCISSA 43. 

Their jrlorioiis efforts, wing'd with heavenly hojx-, 

Each rising morning sees still hijjherrise ; 

Eacli bounteous dawn its novelty presents 

To worth maturing, new strength, lustre, fame ; 

While nature's circle, like a clmriot-wheel 

Rolling beneath their elevated aims, 

Makes Llieir fair prospect fairer every hour ; 

Advancing virtue, in a line to bliss ; 

Virtue, which Christian motives best inspire ! 

And bliss, which Christian schemes alone ensure ! 

And shall we then, for virtue's sake, commence 
Apostates ? and turn infidels for joy? 
A truth it is, few doubt, but fewer trust, 
" He sins against this life, who slights the next." 
What is this life ? How few their favourite know ! 
Fond in the dark, and blind in our embrace, 
By passionately loving life, we make 
Loved life unlovely ; hugging her to death. 
We give to time eternity's regard j 
And, dreaming, take our passage for our port 
Life has no value as an end, but means ; 
An end, deplorable ! a means, divine I 
When 'tis our all, 'tis nothing ; worse than nought ; 
A nest of pains ; when held as nothing, much : 
Like some fair humorists, life is most enjoy 'd 
When courted least ; most worth, when disesteem'd : 
Then 'tis the seat of comfort, rich in peace ; 
In prospect richer far; important I awful ! 
Not to be mention'd, but with shouts of praise ! 
Not to be thought on, but with tides of joy ! 
The mighty basis of eternal bliss ! 

Where now the barren rock ? the painted shrew? 
Where now, Lorenzo ! life's eternal round ? 
Have 1 not made my triple promise good ? 
Vain is the world ; but only to the vain. 
To what compare we then this varying scene, 
Wflose worth ambiguous rises, and declines? 
Ji'vaxesand wanes? (In all propitious, night 
'^Assists me here.) Compare it to the moon ; 
Dark in herself, and indigent ;but rich 
In borrow 'd/fustre from a higher sphere. 
When gro»s guilt interposes, labouring earth, 
O'ershadow'd, mourns a deep eclipse of joy ; 
Her joys, at brightest, pallid, to that font 
Of full effulgent glory, whence they flow. 

Nor is that glory distant : O Lorenzo ! 
A good man, and an angel ! these between, 
How thin the barrier ! What divides their fate ? 
Perhaps a moment, or j)erhaps a year, 
Or, if an age, it is a moment still ; 
A moment, or eternity's forgot. 



44 THE COMPLAINT. [Night Til. 

Then be, wliat once they were, who now are gods j 

Be whatTHiLANDER was-, and claim the skies. 

Starts timid nature at the gloomy pass ? 

The soft transition call it ; and he cheer'd : 

tsucli it is often, and why not to thee .-' 

To hope the best, is pious, brave, and wise ; 

And may itself procure, what it presumes. 

Life is much flatfer'd, death is much traduced ; 

Compare the rivals, and the kinder crown. 

*' Strange competition '."—True, Lorenzo ! strange ! 

So little life can cast into the scale. 

Life makes the soul dependent on the dust ; 
Death gives her wings to mount above the spheres. 
Through chinks, styled organs, dim life peeps at light ; 
Death bursts th' involving cloud, and all is day ; 
All eye, all ear, the disembodied power. 
Death has feign'd evils, nature shall not feel ; 
Life, ills substantial, wisdom cannot shun. 
Is not the mightv%nind, that son of heaven ! 
By tyrant life detlironed, imprison'd, pain'd? 
By death enlarged, ennobled, deified ? 
Death but entonibs the body ; life the soul. 

" Is death then guiltless.' How he marks his way 
With dreadfiil waste of what deserves to shine ! 
Art, genius, fortune, elevated power ! 
With various lustres these light up the world, 
Which death ptits out, and darkens human race." 
I grant, Lorenzo ! tills indictment just : 
The sage, peer, potentate, king, conqueror! 
Death humbles these ; more barbarous life, the man. 
Life is the triumph of our mouldering clay ; 
Death, of the spirit infinite I divine ! 
Death has no dread, but what frail life imparts; 
Nor life true joy, but what kind death improves. 
No bliss has life to boast, till death can give 
Far greater ; life's a debtor to the grave, 
Dark lattice ! letting in eternal day. 

Lorenzo ! blush at fondness for a life, 
Which sends celestial souls on errands vile, 
To cater for the sense ; and serve at boards, 
Where every ranger of the wilds, perhaps 
Each reptile, justly claims our upper hand. 
Luxurious feast ! a soul, a soul immortal, 
In all the dainties of a brute bemired ! 
Lorenzo ! blush at terror for a death, 
\Vbich gives thee to repose in festive bowers, 
Where nectars sparkle, angel? minister, 
And more than angels share, and raise, and crown, 
And eternize, the birth, bloom, bursts of bliss. 
What need I more.' O death, the palm is tliine. 
. Then welcome, death ! thy dreaded harbingers, 



NARC[SSA. 45 

Ajie and discaso ; disease, tliouirli long my iriiest ; 

That plucks my nerves, those tender sfrinjis of life i 

Whicli, plucii'd a little more, will toll tlie bell, 

That calls my few friends to my funeral ; 

Where feeble nature drops, perhaps, a tear, 

While reason and religion, better taught. 

Congratulate the dead, and crown his tomb 

With «reath triumphant. Death is victory ; 

It binds in chains the raging ills of life : 

Lust and ambition, wrath and avarice, 

Dragg'd at his chariot-wheel, ap()laiid his power. 

That ills corrosive, cares importunate. 

Are not Immortal too, O death ! is tliine. 

Our day of dissolution ! — name it right ; 

'Tis onr great pay-day : 'tis our harvest, rich 

And ripe : what though the sickle, sometimes keen. 

Just scars us as we reap the golden grain ? 

More than thy balm, O Gilead 1 heals the wound. 

Birth's feeble cry, and death's deep dismal groan. 

Are slender tributes low-ta.\'d nature pays 

For mighty gain : the gain of each, a life ! 

But oh ! the last the former so transcends. 

Life dies, compared ; life lives beyond the grave. 

And feel I, death 1 no joy from thought of thee ? 
Death, the great counsellor, who man inspires 
With everynobler thought, and fairer deed ! 
Death, the deliverer, who rescues man ! 
Death, the rewarder, who rescued crowns ! 
Death, that absolves my birth ; a curse without it? 
Rich death, that realizes all my cares. 
Toils, virtues, hopes ; without it a chimera ! 
Death, of all pain the i)eriod, not of joy : 
Joy's source, and subject, still subsist unhurt, 
One, in my soul ; and one, in her great Sire ; 
Though the four winds were warring for my dust 
Yes, and from winds, and waves, and central night, 
Though prison'd there, my dust too I reclaim 
(To dust when drop proud nature's proudest spheres,) 
And live entire. Death is the crown of life : 
Were death denied, poor man would live in vain ; 
Were death denied, t«|five would not be life } 
Were death denied, even fools would wish to die. 
Deatli wounds to cure : we fall ; we rise ; we reigu I 
Spring from our fetters ; fasten in the skies ; 
Where blooming Eden withers in our sight : 
Death gives us more than was in Eden iost. 
This king of terrors is the prince of peace. 
When shall I die to vanity, pain, death ? 
When shall I die ?— When shall I live for ever ? 



4G 

NIGHT THE FOURTH. 



THE CHRISTIAN TRIUMPH. 



CoNTAItTI-rtG OUR ONLY CURE FOR THE FeAR OF DeATH, 

AND Proper Sentiments of Heart on that in- 
teresting Blessing. 



TO THE HONOURABLE MR. YORKE. 



A MUCH indebted muse, O Y.orke ; intrudes. 
Amid tlie smiles of fortune, and of youth, 
Thine ear is patient of a serious sons. 
How deep implanted in the breast of man 
The dread of death ! I sing its sovereign cure. 

Why start at death ! Where is he ? Death arrive, 
Is past ; not come, or gone, he's never here. 
Ere hope, sensation fails ; black-boding man 
Receives, not suffers, death's tremendous blow. 
The knell, the shroud, the mattock, and the grave j 
The deep damp vault, the darkness and the worm ; 
These are tlie bugbears of a winter's eve, 
The terrors of the living, not the dead. 
Imagination's fool, and error's wretch, 
JNIan makes a death, which nature never made: 
Then on the point of liis own fancy falls ; 
And feels a thousand deaths, in fearing one. 

But were death frightful, vv0t has age to fear ? 
If prudent, age should meet the friendly foe, 
And shelter in his hosp>itable gloom. 
I scarce can meet a monument, but holds 
Wy younger ; every date cries—" Come away." 
And wiiat recalls me ? Look the world around, 
And tell me what : the wisest cannot tell. 
Should any born of woman give his thought 
Full range, on just dislike's unbounded field j 
Of things, the vanity ; of men, the flaws ; 
Flaws in the best ; "the many, flaw all o'er ; 



THE CHRISTIAN TRIUMPH. 47 

As leopards, spotted, or, as Ethiops, dark ; 
Vivacious ill; good djing immature; 
(How immature, Nakcissa's marble tells '.) 
And at Ills diath bt(iueatliin£; endless pain ; 
Ills heart, though bold, would sicken at the sight, 
And spend itself in sighs for future scenes. 

But grant to life (and just it is to grant 
To lucky life) some perquisites of joy ; 
A time there is, when like a thrice-told talc. 
Long-rifled life of sweet can yield no more, 
Ilut, from our comment on the comedy. 
Pleasing reilcctions on parts well sustain'd. 
Or purposed emendations where we fail'd ; 
Or hopes of plaudits from our candid Judge, 
When, on their exit, souls are hid unrobe. 
Toss fortune back her tinsel, and her plume, 
And drop this mask of flesh behind the scene. 
With me, that time is come 5 my world is dead j 
A new world rises, and new manners reign j 
Foreign commedians, a^pruce band ! arrive. 
To push me from the scene, or hiss me there. 
What a pert race starts up ! the strangers gaze, 
And I at them ; my neighbour is unknown : 
Nor that the worst : ah me ! the dire effect 
Of loitering here, of death defrauded long ; 
Of old so gracious (and let that sulfice,) 
My very master knows me not. 

Shall I dare say, peculiar is Ihe fate .•• 
I've been so long remember'd I'm forgot. 
An object ever pressing dims the sight, 
And hides behind its ardour to be seen. 
When in his courtier's ears I pour my plaint. 
They drink it as the nectar of the great -, 
And squeeze my hand, and beg me come to-morrow. 
Refusal ! canst thou wear a smoother form .' 

Indulge me nor conceive I drop my theme : 
Who cheapens life, abates the fear of death. 
Twice told the period spent on stubborn Troy, 
Court favour, yetuntaken, I besiege ; 
Ambition's ill-judged efl'ort to be rich. 
Alas ! ambition makes my little, less ; 
Imbittering the possess'd ; why wish for more? 
Wishing, of all employments, is the worst ; 
Philosophy's reverse, and health's decay ! 
Were I as plump as stall 'd theology, 
Wishing would waste me to this shade again. 
Were I as wealthy as a South Sea dream 
Wishing is an expedient to be poor. 
Wishing, that constant hectic of a fool ; 
Caught at a court : purged off by jmrer air, 
And simpler diet ; gifts of rural life I 



48 THE COMPLAINT. [Night IV» 

Bless'd be that hand divine, which gently laid 
My lieart at rest, beneath this humble slied. 
The world's a stately bark, on danj^eroiis seasj 
With pleasure seen, but boarded at onr peril ; 
Here, on a single plank, thrown safe ashore^ 
I hear the tumult of the distant throntr, 
As that of seas remote, or dyin? storms ! 
And meditate on scenes more silent still ; 
Pursue my theme, and figiit the fear of death* 
Here, like a shepherd gazing from his imt, 
Touching his reed, or leaning on hisstafl" 
Eager ambition's fiery chase I see ; 
I see the circling hunt of noisy men, 
Burst law's enclosure, leap the mounds of right, 
Pursuing, and pursued, each other's prey ; 
As wolves, for rapine ; as the fox, for wiles ; 
Till death, that miirhty hunter, earths them all. 

Why all this toil for triumphs of an hour ? 
What though we wade in wealth, or soar in fame ? 
Earths highest station ends in, " Here he lies :" 
And " Dust to dust" concludes her noblest song. 
Jf this song lives, posterity shall know 
One, thougii in Britain born, with courtiers bred, 
Who thought even gold might come a day too late j 
Nor on his subtle death-bed plann'd his scheme 
For future vacancies in church or state ; 

Some avocation deeming it to die, 

Unbit by rage canine of dying rich; 

Guilt's blunder ! and the loudest laugh of hell. 

O my coevals : remnants of yourselves ! 
Poor human ruins, tottering o'er the grave I 
Shall we, shall aged men, like aged trees. 
Strike deepertheir vile root, and closer cling, 
Still more enamour'd of this wretched soil ? 
Shall our pale, wither'd hands be still stretched out| 
Trembling, at once, with eagerness and age? 
With avarice, and convulsions, grasping hard ? 
Grasping at air! for what has earth beside? 
Man wants but little; nor that little, long: 
How soon must he resiirn his very dust, 
Wiiich frugal nature lent him for an hour! 
Years unexperienced rush on numerous ills ; 
And soon as man, expert from time, has found 
The key of life, it opes the gates of death. 

When in this vale of years I backward look, 
And miss such numbers, numbers too of such, 
Firmer in health, and greener in their age, 
And stricter on their guard, and fitter far 
To play life's subtle game, I scarce believe 
I still survive: and am I fond of life. 
Who scarce can think it possible, I live ? 



THE CIIRISTlAx\ TRIUxMPIf. 49 

Alive hy miracle ! or, what is next, 

Alive by 1\1ead ! if I am still alive, 

■Who long Jiave buried what jrives life to live, 

Firmness ftf nerve, and energy of thought. 

Life's lee is not more shallow, than impure, 

And vapid ; sense and reason show the door, 

Call for my hier, and point me to the dust. 

O thou {Treat Arbiter of life and death ! 
Nature's immortal, innnaterial 8un ! 
Whoso all-prolific beam late cali'd me forth 
From darkness, teeming darkness, where 1 lay 
The worm's inferior, and, in rank, beneath 
The dust f tread on, hish to bear my brow, 
To drink the spirit of the golden day. 
And triumph in existence ; and couldst know 
No motive, but my bliss ; and hast ordain'd 
A rise in blessing 1 with the patriarch's joy, 
Thy call I follow to the land unknown : 
I trust in Thee, and know in whom 1 trust ; 
Or life, or death, is e/jual ; neither weighs : 
All weight in this— G let me live to Thee ! 

Though nature's terrors, thus, may be repressed ; 
Still frowns grim death ; guilt points the tyrant's spear 
And whence all human guilt i" From death forgot. 
Ah me ! too long I set at nought the swarm 
Of friendly warnings, which around me flew ; 
And smiled, unsmitten : small my cause to smile ! 
Death's admonitions, like shafts upward shot, 
More dreadful by de'ay, the lojfeer ere 
They strike our heai's, the deeper is their wound. 
O think how deep, Lorenzo I liere it stings. 
Who can appease its anguish ? How it biirns ! 
What hand t!)e barb'd, envenom'd thought can draw 
What healing hand can pour the balm of peace ; 
And turn my siglit undaunted on the tomb? 

With joy,— with grief that ht-aling hand I see ; 
Ah ! too conspicuous ! it is fix'd on high. 
On high .'—What means my frenzy ? I blaspheme : 
Alas 1 how low ? how far beneath the skies ! 
The skies it form'd ; and now it bleeds for me — 
But bleeds the balm I want— yet still it bleeds. 
Draw the dire steel— Ah no! the dreadful blessing 
What heart or can sustain, or dares forego? 
There hangs all human hope ; that nail supports 
The falling universe : that gone, we drop ; 
Horror receives us, and the dismal wish 
Creation had been smother'd in her birth — 
Darkness his curtain, and his bed tlie dust; 
When stars and sun are dust beneath his throne ! 
In heaven itself can such indulgence dwell ? 
Oh what a groan was there I a groan not His. 
D 



50 TIIE COMPLAINT. [Night IV. 

He seized our dreadful right ; tlie load sustain'd, 

And heaved the mountain from a guilty world. 

A thousand worlds, so bought, were bought too dear ! 

Sensations new in angels' bosoms rise ; • 

Susfiend their song, and make a pause in bliss. 

Oh for their song, to reach uiy lofty theme ! 

Inspire me, night i with all thy tuneful spheres : 

Whilst I with seraphs share seraphic themes, 

And show to men the dignity of man ; 

Lest I blaspheme my subject with my song. 

Shall Pagan pages glow celestial flame, 

And Christian languish ? On our hearts, not heads. 

Falls the foul infamy. My heart ! awake : 

What can awake thee, nnawaked by this, 

" Expanded Deity on human weal ?" 

Feel the great truths, which burst the tenfold night 

Of Heathen error, with a golden flood 

Of endless day : to feel, is to be fired ; 

And to believe, Lobenzo I is to feel. 
Thou most indulgent, most tremendous Power ! 

Still more tremendous, for thy wondrous love ! 

That arms, with awe more awful, thy commands ; 

And foul transgression dips in sevenfold guilt ; 

How our hearts tremble at thy love immense 1 

in love immense, inviolably just ! 

Thou, rather than thy justice should be stain'd, 
Didst stain the cross ; and, work of wonders far 
The greatest, that thy Dearest far might bleed. 

Bold thought ! shall I dare speak it, or repress ? 
Should man more execrate, or boast, the guilt [flamed 
Which roused such vengeance ? which such love in 
O'er cuilt (how mountainous !) with out-stretch'd ! 
Stern justice, and soft-smiling love, embrace, 
Supporting, in full majesty, thy throne. 
When seem'd its majesty to need support. 
Or that, or man, inevitably lost : 
What, but the fathomless of thought divine, 
Could labour such expedient from despair. 
And rescue both? Both rescue ? both exalt ! 
Oh how are both exalted by the deed t 
The wondrous deed ! or shall I call it more ? 
A wonder in omnipotence itself ! 
A mystery no less to gods than men ! 

Not, thus, our infidels th' Eternal drawj 
A God all o'er, consummate, absolute, 
Full-orb'd, in his whole round of rays complete: 
They set at odds Heaven's jarring attributes j 
And, with one excellence, another wound ; 
JMaiin Heaven's perfection, break its equal beams, 
Bid mercy triumph over— God himself, . 
Undeified by their opprobrious praise : 
A God all mercy, is a God unjust, 



THE CHRISTIAN TRIUMPH. 51 

Ve brainless 'w^its ! ye baptized infidels ! 
Ye worse for mending ! wash'd to fouJcr stains ! 
The ransom was paid down ; tiie fund of Heaven, 
Heaven's inexhaustible, exhausted fund. 
Amazing, and amazed, pour'd forth the price, 
All price beyond : though curious to compute, 
Archangel's faij'd to cast the niidity sum : 
Its value vast, unprasp'd by minds create ; 
For ever hides, and glows, in the Supreme, 

And was tlie ransom paid ? It was : and paid 
(What can exalt the bounty more ?^ for you. 
The sun beheld it— No, the shocking scene 
Drove back his chariot : midnight veil'd his face : 
Not such as this ; not such as nature makes : 
A midnight nature shudder'd to behold ; 
A midnight new ! a dread eclipse (witl)out 
Opposing spheres,) from her Creator's frown ! 
Sun ! didst thou fly thy Maker's pain ? or start 
At that enormous load of human guilt. 
Which bovv'd his blessed head; o'erwhelm'd his cross: 
Wade groan the centre ; burst earth's marble womb, 
With pangs, strange pangs : deliver'd of her dead ? 
Hell huwl'd ; and Heaven that hour let fall a tear : 
Heaven wept, that men might smile! Heaven bled, that 



Might never die !- 



[man 



And is devotion virtue ? 'Tis compell'd : 
What heart of stone, but glows at thoughts like these ? 
6uch contemplations mount us ; and should mount 
The mind still higher; nor ever glance on man, 
Unraptured, uninflamed.— Where roll my thoughts 
To rest from wonders? Other wonders rise ; 
And strike where'er they roll : mv soul is caught : 
Heaven's sovereign blessings, clustering from the cross. 
Rush on her, in a throng, and close her round, 
The prisoner of amaze !— In His bless'd life, 
I see the path, and, in his death, the price. 
And in his great ascent, the proof supreme. 
Of immortality.— And did He rise ? 
Bear, O ye nations : hear it, O ye dead ! 
He rose ! He rose ! He burst the bars of death. 
Lilt lip your heads, ye everlasting gates I 
And give the King of glory to come in. 
Who IS the King of glory ? He who \etX 
His throne of glory for the pang of death. 
Lift up your heads, ye everlasting gates ! 
And give the King of glory to come in. 
Who is the King of glory ? He who slew 
The ravenous foe, that gorged all human race ' 
The King of glory. He, whose dory fill'd 
Heaven with amazement at his love to man ; 



52 THE COMPLAINT. [Night IV 

And with divine complacecy beheld 

Powers most iUumined, vvilder'd in the theme. 

The theme, the joy, how then shall man sustain ! 
Oh the burst gates 1 crush'd sting ! demolish'd throne 
Last gasp! of vanquish'd death. Shout earth and heaven 
This sum of good to man : whose nature, then, 
Took wing, and mounted with him from the tomb! 
Then, then, I rose ; then first humanity 
Triumphant pass'd the crystal ports of iight, 
(Stupendous guest !) and siez'd eternal youth, 
Siez'd in our name. E'er since, 'tis blasphemous 
To call man mortal. Man's mortality 
Was, then, transferr'd to death ; and heaven's duratio; 
Unalienably seal'd to this frail frame, 
This child of dust — Man, all-immortal ! hail ; 
Hail, Heaven I all-lavish of strange gifts to man I 
Thine all the glory ; man's the boundless bliss. 

Where am I rapt by this triumphant theme.' 
On Christian joys exulting wing, above 
Til' Aonian mount .'—Alas ! small cause for joy ! 
What if to pain immortal ? if extent 
Of being, to preclude a close of woe .' 
Where, then, my boast of immortality.' 
I boast it still, though cover'd o'er with gnilt : 
For guilt, not innocence, his life he pour'd ; 
'Tis guilt alone can justify his death ; 
Nor that, unless his death can justify 
Relenting guilt in Heaven's indulgent sight; 
If, sick of folly, I relent ; lie writes 
My name in heaven, with that invested spear 
(A spear deep-dipp'd in blood !) which pierced hissid< 
And open'd there a font for all mankind, 
Who strive, who combat crimes, to drink, and live 
This, only this, subdues the fear of death. 

And what is this ? — Survey the wondrous cure : 
And, at each step, let higher wonder rise ! 
" Pardon for infinite otfence ! and pardon 
Through means that speak its value infinite ! 
A pardon bought with blood I with blood divine ! 
With blood divine of Him, I made my foe ! 
Persisted to provoke ! though woo'd and awed^ 
Bless'd and chastised, a flagrant rebel still ! 
A rebel, 'midst the thnnders of his throne ! 
Nor 1 alone ! a rebel nniverse ! 
Mv species up in arms ! not one exempt! 
yet for the foulest of the foul, he dies ; 
Most joy'd for the redeem'd from deepest guilt ! 
As if our race were held of highest rank ; 
A Godhead dearer, as more kind to jnan !" 

Bound, eveiy heart ! and every bosom burn ! 



THE CHRISTIAN TRIUMPH. 63 

!)h what a scale of miracles is here ! 

ts lowest round, Iiigli planted on the skies ; 

ts towerint; summit, lost beyond the thought 

)f man or anjjel ! Oh that I could climb 
The wonderful ascent, with equal praise ! 

raise! flow fqr ever (if astonishment 
-Vill give thee leave ;) my praise ! for ever flow ; 

raise ardent, cordial, constant ; to high Heaven 
viore fragrant, than Arabia sacrificed, 
Vnd all her spicy mountains in a flame. 

So dear, so due to Heaven, shall praise descend, 
A^ith her soft plume (from piausive angels' wing 
^irst pluck'd by man) to tickle mortal ears, 
Thus diving in the pockets of the great ? 

s praise the perquisite of every paw, 

Though black as hell, that grapples well for gold i" 

)h love of gold ! thou meanest of amours ! 

5hall praise her odours waste on Virtue's dead, 

3mbalm the base, perfume the stench of guilt, 

Sam dirty bread by washing ^thiops fair, 

lemoving filth, or sinking it from sight, 

\ scavenger in scenes, where vacant posts, 

jike gibbets yet untenanted, expect 

Their future ornaments ? From courts and thrones 

leturn, apostate praise ! thou vagabond I 

Thou prostitute ! to thy first love return, 

Thy first, thy greatest, once unrival'd theme. 

There flow redundant ; like Meander flow, 
Jack to thy fountain ; to that parent Power, 
»Vho gives the tongue to sound, the thought to soar, 
The soul to be. Men homage pay to men, 
Thoughtless beneath whose dreadful eye they bow, 
in mutual awe profound of clay to clay. 
Of guilt to guilt ; and turn their back on Thee, 
5reat Sire I whom thrones celestial ceaseless sing ; 
To prostrate angels an amazing scene ! 
3 the presumption of man's awe for man I — 
Man's author! and restorer! law ! and judge ! 
Thine, all : day thine, and thine this gloom of night, 
iVith all her wealth, with all her radiant worlds : 
What, night eternal, but a frown from Thee ? 
IVhat, heaven's meridian glory, but thy smile ? 
\nd shall not praise be thine ? not human praise ? 
iVhile heaven's high host oil hallelujah's live ? 

Oh may I breathe no longer, than I breathe 
My soul in praise to Him, who gave my souJ, 
\nd all her infinite of prospect fair, 
Uut through the shades of hell, great Love ! by Thee, 
3 most adorable ! most unador'd ! 
IVheresliall that praise begin which ne'er should end: 
IVhere'er I turn, what claim on all applause 1 



M THE COMPLAINT. [Night IV 

How is night's sable mantla..labour'd o'er t 

How richly wroujiht with attributes divine ! 

What wisdom shines! what love! Thismidnipht pomp, 

This fforjreous arch, with golden worlds inlaid ! 

Built "with divine ambition ! nought to Thee ; 

For others this profusion : Thou, a|)art, 

Above ! beyond ! Oh tt^ll me, michty Mind ! 

Where art "thou ? Shall I dive into the deep? 

Call to the sun, or ask the roaring winds, 

For their Creator? Shall 1 question loud 

The.thunder, if in that the Almighty dwells? 

Or holds He furious storms in straiten'd reins, 

And bids fierce whirlwinds wheel his rapid car? 

What mean these questions ? — Trembling I retract i 
My prostrate soul adores the present God : 
Praise I a distant Deity ? He tunes 
My voice (if tuned ;) the nerve, that writes, sustains 
Wrapp'd in his being, 1 resound his praise : 
But though past all diffused, Without a shore, 
His essence ; local is his throne (as meet,) 
To gather the dispersed (as standards call 
The listed from afar ;) to fix a point, 
A central point, collective of his sons ; 
Since finite every nature but his own. 

The nameless He, whose nod is nature's birth ; 
And nature's shield, the shadow of his hand ; 
Her dissolution, his suspended smile ! 
The great First -last ! pavilion'd high he sits 
In darkness from excessive splendour born, 
By gods unseen, unless through lustre lost. 
His glory, to created glory, bright, 
As that to central horrors : h* looks down 
On all that soars ; and spans immensity. 

Though night unnumber'd worlds unfolds to vicWj 
Boundless creation ! what art thou ? A beam, 
A mere etHuvium of his majesty : 
And shall an atom of this atom-world 
Mutter, in dust and sin, tlie theme of heaven ? 
Down to the centre should I send my thought. 
Through beds of glittering ore* and glowing gems j 
Their beggard blaze wants lustre for my lay ; 
Goes out in darkness : if, on towering wing, 
I send it through the boundless vault of stars ; 
The stars, though rich, what dross their gold to Thee 
Great! good ! wise ! wonderful ! eternal King I 
If to those conscious stars tliy throne around, 
Praise ever pouring, and embibing bliss ; 
And ask their strain ; they want it, more they want. 
Poor their abundance, humble their sublime, 
Languid their energy, their ardour cold ; | 

Indebted still, their highest rapture burns ; j 

Short of its mark, defective, though divine. 



THE CHRISTIAN TRIUMPH. 55 

Still more— Tttis theme is man's, and man's alone ; 
Their vast appointments reach it not ; they see 
On earth a bounty not indulged on hitrh ; 
And downward look for Heaven's snperior praise ! 
First-born of ether ! hisih in fields of lifflit I 
View man, to see the ftlory of your God I 
Could angels envy, they had envied here ; 
And some did envy ; and the rest, though frod3, 
Vet still gods unredeem'd (there triumphs man, 
Tempted to weigh the dust against the skies,) 
They less would feel, though more adorn, my theme. 
They sung creation (for in that they shared ;) 
How rose in melody, that child of love ! 
Creation's great superior, man ! is thine : 
Thine is redemption : tliey just gave the key ; , 
'Tis tliine to raise, and eternize, the song ; 
Though human, yet divine ; for should not this 
Raise man o'er man, and kindle seraphs here ? 
Redemption I 'twas creation more snblime ; 
Redemption ! 'twas the labour of the skies ; 
Far more than labour — it was death in licaven : 
A truth so strange ! 'twere bold to think it true, 
If not far bolder still, to disbelieve. 

Here pause, and ponder — Was there death in heaven 
What then on earth ? on earth, which struck the blow ? 
Who struck it? Who? — Oh how is man enlarged, 
Seen through this medium ! how the pigmy towers ! 
HoA' counterpoised his origin from dust ! 
Hoiv counterpoised, to dust his sad return ! 
How voided his vast distance from the skies I 
How near he presses on the seraph's wing ! 
Which is the seraph ? which the born of clay ? 
How this demonstrates, through the thickest cloud 
Of guilt and clay condensed, the Son of Heaven ! 
The doul)le son ; the made, and the re-made ! 
And shall Heaven's double property be lost? 
Men's double madness only can destroy. ' 

To man the bleeding cross has promised all ; 
The bleeding cross has sworn eternal grace ; 
Who gave his life, what grace shall He deny ? 
O ye ! who, from this Rock of Ages, leap, 
Disdainful, plunging headlong in the deep! 
What cordial joy, what consolation strong, 
Whatever winds arise, or billows roll. 
Our interest in the Master of the storm ? 
Cling there, and in wreck'd nature's ruin smile 
While vile apostates tremble in a calm. 

Man ! know thyself. All wisdom centres there ; 
To none man seems ignoble, but to man ; 
Angels that grandeur, men o'erlook, admire : 



56 THE COMPLAI^S'T, [Night IV. 

How long shall human nature be their boojc, 

Degenerate mortal 1. and unread by thee ? 

The beam dim reason sheds, shows wonders there ; 

What high contents I iJlustrious faculties ! 

But the grand comment, which disj)lays at full 

Our human height, scarce sever'd from divine, 

By Heaven composed, was piiblish'd on the cross. 

Who looks on that, and sees not in himself 
An awful stranger, a terrestrial god ? 
A glorious partner with the Deity 
In that high attribute, immortal life ? 
If a God bleeds, lie bleeds not for a worm : 
I gaze, and, as I gaze, my mounting soul 
Catches strange fire, eternity ! at thee ; 
And drops the world — or rather, more enjoys. 
How changed the face of nature .' how improved ! 
What seem'd a chaos, shines a glorious world. 
Or, what a world, an Eden ; heighten'd all! 
It is another scene I another self 1 
And still another, as time rolls along ; 
And that a self far more illustrious still. 
Beyond long ages, yet roli'd up in shades 
Unpierc'd by bold conjecture's keenest ray, 
What evolutions of surprising fate ! 
How nature opens, and receives my soul 
In boundless walks of raptured thought I where gods 
Encounter and embrace me ! What new births 
Of strange adventure, foreign to the sun, 
Where what now charms, perhaps, whate'er exists, 
Old time, and fair creation, are forgot ! 

Is this extravagant ? Of man we form 
Extravagant conception, to be just : 
Conception onconrtned wants wings to reach him: 
Beyond its reach, the Godhead only, more. 
He, the great Father ! kindled at one flame 
The world of rationals ; one spirit pour'd 
From spirits awful fountain : pour'd Himself 
Through all their souls 1 but not in equal stream, 
Profuse, or frugal, of th' inspiring God, 
As his wise plan demanded ; and, when past 
Their various trials, in their various spheres, 
Ifthey continue rational, as made, 
Resorbs them all into Himself again ; 
His throne their centre, and his smile their crown. 

Why doubt we, then, the glorious truth to sing ; 
Though yet unsung, asdeem'd perhaps, too bold i 
Angels are men of a superior kind ; 
Angels are men in lighter habit clad. 
High o'er celestial mountains wing'd in flight ; 
And men are angels, loaded for an hour, 
W4io wade this miry vale, and climb with pain, 



THE CHRISTIAN TRIU.MPn 57 

And slippery step, the bottom of the steep. 
Angels their failiiij,'.s, mortals have their praise , 
While here, of corps ethereal, such enroli'd, 
And sainmon'd to the glorious standard soon, 
Which flames eternal crimson through the skies. 
Nor are our brothers thoughtless of their kin, 
Yet absent ; but not absent from their love. 
Michael has fought our battles ; Raphael sung 
Our triumphs ; Gabriel on our errands flown, 
Sent by the Sovereign : and are these, O man ! 
Thy friends, tliy warm allies ? and thou (shame bum 
The cheek to cinder !) rival to the brute ? 

Religion's all. Descending from the skies 
To wretched man, the goddess in her left 
Holds out this world, and in her right, the next: 
Religion ! the sole voucher man is man j 
Supporter sole of man above himself; 
Even in this night of frailty, change, and death, 
She gives the soul a soul that acts a god. 
Religion ! Providence ! an after-state I 
Here is firm footing ; here is solid rock ! 
This can support us ! all is sea besides ; 
Sinks under us ; bestorms, and then devours. 
His hand the good man fastens on the skies, 
And bids earth roll, nor feels her idle whirl. 

As when a wretch, from thick, polluted air, 
Darkness, and stench, and suffocating damps, 
And dungeon horrors, by kind fate discharged. 
Climbs some fair eminence, where ether pure 
Surrounds him, and Elysian prospects rise ; 
His heart exults, his spirits casts their load ; 
As if new-born, he triumphs in the change : 
So joys the soul, when from inglorious aims. 
And sordid sweets, from feculence and froth. 
Of lies terrestrial set at large, she mounts 
To reason's region, her own element, , 
Breathes hopes immortal, and affects the skies. 

Religion ! thou the soul of happiness ; 
And groaning Calvarj', of thee I There shine 
The noblest truths ; there strongest motives sting 3 
There, sacred violence assaults the soul ; 
There nothing but compulsion is forborn. 
Can love allure us ? or can terror awe ? 
He weeps \ — the falling drop puts out the sun ; 
He sighs !— the sigh earth's deep foundation shakes. 
If, in his love so terrible, what then 
His wrath inflam'd ? his tenderness on fire ; 
Like soft smooth oil, outblazing other fires .'' 
Can prayer, can praise, avert it ? — 'J'hou, my all ! 
My theme ! my inspiration ! and my crown I 
Wy strength io age ! my rise iu low estate ! 



58 THE COMPLAINT. [Night IV. 

My soul's ambition, pleasure, wealth ! — my world ! 

My light in darkness ! and my life in death ! 

My boast through time ! bliss through eternity ! 

Eternity, too short to speak thy praise I 

^Dr fathom thy profound of love to man ! 

To *nan of men the meanest, even to me ; 

Mv sacrifice ! mv God ! — what tilings are these ! 

What then ar^TIlOU? by what name shall 1 callThee? 
Knew 1 the name devout archangels. use, 
Devout archangels should the name enjoy, 
By me unriVal'd ; thousands more sublime, 
None half so dear, as that, which, though unspoke^ 
Still glows at heart. O how omnipotence 
Is lost in love ! Thou great Philanthropist ! 
Father of angels '. but the friend of man ! 
Like Jacob, fondest of the younger-born ! 
Thou, who didst save him, snatch the smokinghrand 
From out the flames, and quench it in thy blood I 
How art thou pleased, by bounty to distress ! 
To make us groan beneath our gratitude. 
Too big for birth ! to favour, and confound ; 
To challenge, and to distance all return ! 
Of lavish love stupendous heights to soar 
And leave praise panting in the distant vale ! 
Thy right too great, defrauds thee of thy due j 
And sacrilegious our subli-mest song. 
But since the naked will obtains thy smile, 
Beneath this monument of praise unpaid. 
And future life symphonious to my strain, 
(That noblest hyuin to heaven !) for ever lie 
Entomb'd my fear of death ! and every fear, 
The dread of every evil, but thy froWn. 

Whom see I yonder, so demurely smile ? 
Laughter a labour, and might break their rest; 
Yequietists, in homage to the skies! 
Serene ! of soft address ! who mildly make 
An unobtrusive tender of your hearts, 
Abhorring violence! who halt indeed; 
But, for the blessing, wrestle not with Fleaven ! 
Think you my song too turbulent? too warm ? 
Are passions, then, the Pagans of the soul ? 
Reason alone baptized ? alone ordain'd 
To touch things sacred .' Oh for warmer still I 
Guilt chills my zeal, and age benumbs my powers j 
Oh for a humbler hehrt, and prouder song! 
THOU, my much-injured tlieme ! with that soft eye 
Which melted o'er doom'd Salem, deign to look, 
Compassion to the coldness of my breast, 
And pardon to the winter in my strain. 
O ye cold hearted, frozen formalists ! 
On such a theme, 'tis impious to be calm ; 



THE CHRISTIAX TRIUMPH. 59 

Passion is reason, transport temper, here. 

Fhall Heaven, which <.'ave us ardour, and has shown 

Her own for man so stronjily, not disdain 

M'hat smooth emolients in theology, 

Recumbent virtue's downy doctors preach, 

That prose of piety, a lukewarm praise.? 

Rise odours sw^eet from incense uninflamed ? 

Devotion, when lukewarm, is undevout ; 

But when it glows, its l)eat is struck to heaven : 

To human hearts her polden liarps are struufi; 

Hi}£h heaven's orchestra chaunts Amen to man. 

Hear I, or dream 1 hear, their distant strain. 
Sweet to the soul, and tasting strong of lieaven, 
Sofl-wafled on celestial pity's plume. 
Through the vast spaces of the universe, 
To cheer me in this melancholy gloom .' 
Oh when Will death (now stingless,) like a friend, 
Admit me of their choir? Oh when will death. 
This mouldering, old partition-wall throw down? 
Give beings, one in nature, one abode ? 
Oh death divine ! that giv'st us to the skies ! 
Great future! glorious patron of the past. 
And present! when shall I thy shrine adore.'' 
From nature's continent, immensely wide. 
Immensely bless'd this little isle of life, 
This dark, incarcerating colony. 
Divides us. Happy day ! that breaks our chain j 
That manumits ; that calls from exile home ; 
That leads to nature's great metropolis, 
And re-admits us, through the szuardian hand 
Of elder brothers, to our Father's throne ; 
Who hears our Afl^ncate, and, throuirh his wounds 
Beholding man, allows that tender name. 
'Tis this makes Christian triumph a command ; 
'Tis this makes joy a duty to the wise : 
'Tis impious in a good man to he sad. 

Seest thou, Lorenzo ! where hangs all hope ? 
Touch'd by the cross, we live ; or, more than die: 
That touch which touch'd not angels ; more divine 
Than that which touch'd confusion into form, 
And darkness into glorj' : partial touch ! 
Ineffably pre-eminent regard ! 
Sacred to man, and sovereign tlirotigli tJie whole 
Long golden chain of miracles, which hangs 
From heaven through ail duration, and supports, 
In one illustrious and amazing plan, 
Thy welfare, nature I and thy Cod's renown ; 
That touch, with charm celestial, heals the soul • 
Diseased, drives j>ain from guilt, lights life in death ; 
Turns earth to heaven ; to heavenly thrones transforms a 
The ghastly ruins of the mouldc.-ing tomb. ' 



m THE COMPLAINT. [Night IV. 

Dost ask me when ? — When He who died returns ; 
Return, how changed ! Where then the man of woe? 
In glory's terrors all the Godhead burns ; 
And all his courts, exhausted by the tide 
Of deities triumphant in his train, 
Leave a stupendous solitude in heaven ; 
Replenish'd soon, replenish'd with increase 
Of pomp, and multitude ; a radiant band 
Of angels new ; of angels from the tomb. 

Is this by fancy thrown remote? and rise 
Dark doubts between the promise, and event ? 
I send thee not to volumes for thy cure ; . 
Read nature ; nature is a friend to truth : 
Nature is Christian ; preaches to mankind ; 
And bids dead matter aid us in our creed. 
Hast thou ne'er seen the comet's flaming flight ? 
Th' illustrious stranger passing, terror sheds 
On gazing nations, from his fiery train 
Of length enormous ; takes his ample round 
Through depths of ether ; coasts unnumber'd worlds 
Of more than solar glory ; doubles wide 
Heaven's mighty cape ; and then re-visits earth, 
From the long travel of a thousand years. 
Thus, at the destined period, sliall return 
HE, once on earth, who bids the comet blaze ; 
And, with Him, all our triumph o'er the tomb. 

Nature is dumb on this important point ; 
Or hope precarious in low whisper breathes : 
Faith speaks aloud, distinct ; even adders hear j 
But turn, and dart into the dark again. 
Faith builds a bridge across the gulf of death, 
To break the shock blind nature cannot shun, 
And lands thought smoothly on the further shore. 
Death's terror ie the mountain faith removes ; 
That mountain-barrier between man and peace. 
'Tis faith disarms destruction ; and absolves. 
From every clamorous charge, the guiltless tomb. 

Why disbelieve ? Lorenzo ! — " Reason bids, 
All-sacred reason. "—Hold her sacred still ; 
Nor shalt thou want a rival in thy flame. 
All-sacred reason ! source, and soul, of all 
Demanding praise, on earth, or earth above ! 
My heart is thine : deep in its inmost folds. 
Live thou with life ; life dearer of the two. 
Wear I the blessed cross, by fortune stamp'd 
On passive nature, before thought was born ? 
My birth's blind bigot ! fired with local zeal ! 
No ; .reason rebaptized me when adult ; 
Weigh'd true, and false, in her impartial scale : 
Myjieart became the convert of my head ; 
And made that choice, which once was but my fate. 



THE CHRISTIAN TRIUJIPII. 61 

«' On arjniment alone my faith is built ;" 
Beason pursued is faith : and, unpursued 
Where proof invites, 'tis reason, then no more: 
And such our proof, that, or our faith ii? right. 
Or reason lies, and H. aven design'd it wrong : 
Absolve we this ? What, then, is blasphemy ? 

Fond as we are, and justly fond, of faith. 
Reason, we grant, demands our tirst regard •, 
The mother honour'dj as the daughter dear. 
Reason the root ; fair faith is hut the flower : 
The fa<ling flower shall die ; but reason lives 
Immortal, as lier Father in the skies. 
When faith is virtue, reason makes it so. 
Wrong not the Christian : think not reason yours : 
'Tis reason our great Master holds so dear ; 
'Tis reason's injured rights his wrath resents ; 
'Tis reason's voice obey'd his glories crown ; 
To give lost reason life, He pour'd his own. 
Believe, and show the reason of a man ; 
Believe, and taste the pleasure of a God ; 
Believe, and look with triumph on the tomb. 
Through reason's wounds alone thy faith can die; 
Which dying, tenfold terror ^ives to death. 
And dips in venom his twice-mortal sting. 

Learn hence what honours, what loud paans, due 
To those wlio push our antidote aside ; 
Those boasted friends to reason, and toman. 
Whose fatal love stabs every joy, and leaves 
Death's terror heighten 'd, gnawing on his heart. 
These pompous sons of reason, idolized 
And vilified at once ; of reason dead, 
Then deified, as monarchs were of old ;, 
What conduct Jjlants proud laurels on their brow .' 
While love of truth through all their camp resounds, 
They draw pride's curtain o'er the noon-tide ray, 
gpike up their inch of reason, on the point 
Of philosophic wit, call'd argument ; 
And then, exulting in their taper, cry, 
•' Behold the sun !" and, Indian-like, adore. 

Talk they of morals ! O thou bleeding Love ! 
Thou maker of new morals to mankind ! 
The grand morality is love of Thee. 
As wise as Socrates, if such they were 
(Nor will they bate of that sublime renown,) 
As wise as Socrates, might justly stand 
The definition of a modern fool. 

A Christian is the highest style of man. 
And is there, who the blessed cross wipes off, 
As a foul blot from his dishonour'd brow } 
If angels tremble, 'tis at such a sight : 
The wretch they quit, desponding of their charge ; 
More struck with grief, or wonder, who can tell.^ 



62 THE COMPLAINT. [Night IV. 

Ye sold to sense ! ye citizens of earth '• 
For such alone the Christian banner fly,; 
Know ye how wise your choice, how great your gain.' 
Behold the picture of earth's happiest man : 
•' He calls his wish, it comes ; he sends it back, 
And says, he call'd another ; that arrives. 
Meets the same welcome ; yet he still calls on ; 
Till one calls him, who varies not his call. 
Rut holds him fast, in chains of darkness bound, 
Till nature dies, and judgment sets him free ; 
A freedom far less welcome than his chain." 

But grant man happy ; grant him happy long ; 
Add to life's highest prize hcj: latent hour j 
That hour, so late, is nimble in approach. 
That, like a post, conies on in full career : 
How swift the shutfle flies, that weaves thy shroud ! 
Where is the fable of thy former years ? 
Thrown down the gulf of time ; as far from thee, 
As they had ne'er been thine : the day in hand, 
Like a bird struggling tq get loose, is going ; 
Scarce now possess'd, so suddenly 'tis gone ; 
And each swift moment fled, is death advanced 
By strides as swift. Eternity is al' I 
And whose eternity .' Who triumphs there? 
Bathing for ever in the font of bliss .' 
For ever basking in the Deity ! 
Lorenzo ! who .'' — Thy conscience shall reply. 

O give it leave to speak ; 'twill speak ere long, 
Thy leave unask'd : Lorenzo ! hear it now, 
While useful its advice, its accent mild. 
By the great edict, the divine decree. 
Truth is deposited with man's last hour; 
An honest hour, and faithful to her trust. 
Truth, eldest daughter of the Deity ; 
Truth, of his council, when he made the worlds : 
Nor less, when he shall judge the worlds he made ; 
Though silent long, and sleeping ne'er so sound, 
Smother'd with errors, and oppress'd with toys. 
That Heaven-commission'd hour no sooner calls, 
But from her cavern in the soul's abyss. 
Like him they fable under ^tna whelm'd. 
The goddess bursts in thunder, and in flame j 
Loudly convinces, and severely pains. 
Dark demons I discharge, and Hydra stings^ 
The keen vibration of bright truth — is hell : 
Just definition ! though by schools untaught. 
Ye deaf to truth ! peruse this parson'd page, 
And trust, for once, a prophet, and a priest ; 
" Men may live fools, but fools they cannot die. 



NIGHT THE FIFTH. 



THE RELAPSE. 



To THE Right Ilow. the Earlof Litchfield. 



Lorenzo ! to recriminate is just. 

Fondness for fame is avarice of air. 

I grant, the man is vain who writes for praise : 

Praise no man e'er deserved, wlio souplit no more. 

As just thy second charge. 1 grant the muse 
Has otlen blush'd at her degenerate sons, 
Retain^ by sense to plead her filthy cause ; 
To raise the low, to magnify the mean, 
And subtilize the gross into refined : 
A^ if to magic numbers' powerful charm 
'Twas given , to make a civet of their song 
Obscene, and sweeten odo\ir to perfume. 
Wit, a true Pagan, deifies the brute. 
And lifts the swine-enjoyments from the mire. 

The fact notorious, nor obscure the cause. . 

We wear the chains of pleasure, and of pride 
These share the man ; and these distract him too ; 
Draw dilfereut ways, and clash in their commands / 
Pride, like an eagle, builds among the stars ; 
But pleasure, lark-like, nests upon the ground. 
Joys shared by brute-creation, pride resents ; 
Pleasure embraces: man would both enjoy, 
And both at once ; a point so hard how gain '. 
But what can't wit, when stung by strong desire? 

Wit dares attempt this arduous enterprise. 
Since joys of sense can't rise to reason's taste ; 
In subtle sophistry's laborious forge. 
Wit hammers out reason new, that stoops 
To sordid scenes, and greets them with ajiplause. 
Wit calls the graces the chaste zone to loose ; 
Nor less than a plump god to fill the bowl. 
A thousand phantoms, and a thousand spells, 
A thousand opiates scatters^ to delude, 
To fascinate, inebriate, lay asleep, 
And the fool'd mind delightfully confound. 



64 THE COMPLAIx\T. [Xight V. 

Thus that which shock'd the judgment,shocks no more; 

That which gave pride offence, no more offends. 

Pleasure and pride, bj' nature mortal foes, 

At war eternal, which in man shall reign, 

By wit's address, patch up a fatal peace, 

And hand in hand lead on the rank debauch. 

From rank refined, to delicate and gay. 

Art, cursed art ! wipes ofFthe indebted blush 

From nature's cheek, and bronzes every shame. 

Man smiles in ruin, glories in his guilt ; 

And infamy stands candidate for praise. 

All writ by man in favour of the soul, 
The3esensualethics,far, in bulk, transcend. 
The flowers of eloquence, profusely pour'd 
O'er spotted vice, fill half the letter'd world. 
Can powers of genius exercise their page, 
And consecrate enormities with song.' 

But let not tjjese inexpiable strains 
Condemn tiie muse that knovi's her dignity ; 
JVor meanly stops at time, but holds the world 
As 'tis, in nature's ample field, a point, 
A point in her esteem ; from whence to start. 
And run the round of universal space, 
To visit being universal there. 
And being's Source, that utmost flight of mind ! 
Yet spite of this so vast circumference. 
Well knows, but what is moral, nought is great. 
Sing Syrens only? Do not angels sing.' 
There is in poesy a decent pride. 
Which well becomes her when she speaks to prose, 
Her younger sister ; haply, not more wise. 

Think'st thou, Lorenzo ! to find pastimes here'? 
No guilty passion blown into a flame, 
No ifoibleflatter'd, dignity disgraced. 
No fairy field of fiction all on flower, 
No rainbow colours, here, or silken tale ; 
But solemn counsels, images of awe. 
Truths, which eternity lets fall on man 
With double weight, through these revolving spheres: 
This death-deep silence, and incumbent shade : 
Thoughts such as shall revisit your last hour j 
Visit uncall'd, and live when life expires: 
And thy dark pencil, midnight ! darker still 
In melancholy dipp'd, embrowns tlie whole. 

Yet this, even this, my laughter-loving friends! 
LoREPfzo ! and thy brothers of the smile ! 
If, what imports you most, can most engage, 
Shall steal your ear, and chain you to my song. 
Or if j'ou fail me, know, the wise shall taste 
The truths I sing ; the truths [ sing shall feel ; 
And, feeling, give assent ,; and their assent 



THE RELxVPSE 65 

Is ample rpconipeiise, is more than praise : 

But chiefly tl)iri(!, O Litchfield ! nor mistake ; 

Think not uiiintrodnced I force my way ; 

Narcissa, not iwikiiovvn, not unallied, 

By virtue or by blood, ilhistrions youth ! 

To thee, from blooming anmianlhine bowers. 

Where all the lansrua^e harmony, liescends 

UncalI'd, and asks admittance for the muse ; 

A muse that will not pain thee with thy praise : 

Thy praise she drops, by nobler still inspired. 

O thou, bless'd Spirit : whether the supreme, 
Grefatantemundane Father; in whose breast, 
Embryo creation, unborn beinj;, dwelt, 
Afld all its various revolutions roli'd 
Present, though future ; prior to themselves ; 
Whose Iweath can blow it into nought again ; 
Or, from his throne some delegated power, 
Who, studious of our peace, dost turn the thought 
From vain and vile, to solid and sublime I 
Unseen thou lead'st me to delicious draughts 
Of inspiration, from a purer stream. 
And fuller of the ^od, than that which burst 
From famed ("astalia : nor is yet allay 'd 
My sacred thirr^t ; though long my soul has ranged 
Through pleasing paths of ni(»ral, and divine. 
By Thee sustain'd, and lighted by the stars. 

By them best lighted are the paths of thoiieht ; 
Nights are their days, their most illumined hours. 
By day, the soul, o'er borne by life's career, 
Stunn'd by the din, and giddy with the glare, 
Reels far from reason, jostled by the throng. 
By day the soul is passive, all her thoughts 
Imposed, precarious, broken ere mature. 
By night, from objects free, from passion cool, 
Thoughts uncontroll'd, and unimpress'd, the births 
Of pure election, arbitrary range, 
Not to the limits of one world confined ; 
But from ethereal travels light on earth, 
As voyagers drop anchor, for repose. 

Let Indians, and the gay, like Indians, fond 
Of feather'd fopperies, the sun adore : 
Darkness has more divinity for me ; 
It strikes thought inward ; it drives back the soul 
To settle on herself, our point supreme ! 
There lies our theatre ; there sits our judge. 
Darkness the curtain drops o'er life's dull scene : 
'Tis the kind hand of Providence stretch'd out 
'Twixt man and vanity ; 'tis reason's reign, 
And virtue's too : these tutelary shades 
Are man's asylum from the tainted throng. 
Night is the good man's friend, and guardian too ; 
E 



€6 THE COMPLAINT. Night V. 

It no less rescues virtue, than inspires. 

Virtue, forever frail, as fair, below. 
Her tender nature suffers in tlie crowd, 
Nor touches on tl)e world, without a stain : 
The world's infectious: few bring back at eve. 
Immaculate, the manners of the morn. 
Something we thought, is blotted ; we resolved, 
Is shaken ; we renounced, returns again. 
Each salutation may slide in a sm 
Untliought before, or fix a former flaw. 
Nor is it strange : lislitj motion, concourse, noise. 
All, scatter us abroad ; thought, outward-bound. 
Neglectful of her home affairs, flies ofl' 
In fume and dissipation, quits lier charge. 
And leaves tlie breast ungarded to tHe foe. 

Present example get-s witliin our guard, 
And acts with double force, by few repell'd. 
Ambition fires ambition ; love of gain 
Strikes, like a pestilence, from breast to breast: 
Riot, pride, perfidy, blue vapours breathe ; 
And inhumanity is caught from man. 
From smiling man. A slight, a single glance, 
And shot at random, often has brought home 
A sudden fever, to the throbbing heart. 
Of envy, rancour, or impure desire. 
We see, we hear, with peril ; safety dwells 
Remote from multitude ; the world's a school 
Of wrong, and what proficients swarm around 
We must, or imitate, or disapprove ; 
Must list as their accomjjjices, or foes : 
That stains our innocence ; this wounds our peace. 
From nature's birth, hence, wisdom has been smit 
With sweet recess, and languish'd for the shade. 

The sacred shade, and solitude, what is it." 
',Tis the felt presence of the Duity. 
Few fire the faults we flatter when alone. 
Vice sinks in her allurements, is ungilt. 
And looks, like other objects, black by night. 
By night, an atheist half-believes a God. 

Night is fair virtu-e's immemorial friend : 
The conscious moon, through every distant age, 
Has held a lamp to wisdom, and let fall 
On contemplation's eye, her purging ray. 
The famed Athenian, he who woo'd from heaven 
Philosophy the fair, to dwell with men, 
And form their manners, not inflame their pride ; 
While o'er his head, as fearful to molest 
His labouring mind, the stars in silence slide. 
And seem all gazing on their future guest, 
See him soliciting his ardent suit . 
In private audience : all the livelong night. 
Rigid in thought, and motionless, he stands j 



THE RELAPSE. 67 

Nor quits his theme, or posture, till the sun 
(Rude drunkard, rising rosy from the main !) 
Disturbs his nobler intellectual beam, 
And gives him to the tumult of the world. 

Hail precious moments ! stolen from'the black waste 
Of murder'd time ! auspicious midnight ! hail I 
The world excluded, every passion hush'd, , 
And openM a calm intercourse with heaven, 
Here the s'oul sits in council ; ponders past, 
Predestines future action ; sees, not feels, 
Tumultuous life, and reasons with the storm ; 
AH her lies answers, and thinks down her charms. 

What awful joy ! what mental liberty I 
I api not pent in darkness ; rather say 
(If not too bold,) in darkness I'm embower'd. 
Delightful gloom ! the clustering thoughts around 
Spontaneous rise, and blossom in the shade ; 
But droop by day, and sicken in the sun. 
Thought borrows light elsewhere ; from that lirst fire, 
Fountain of animation ! whence descends 
Urania, my celestial guest 1 who deigns 
Nightly to visit me, so mean ; and now. 
Conscious how needful discipline to man. 
From pleasing dalliance with the charms of night 
My wandering thought recalls, to what excites 
Far other beat of heart ; Narci ssa's tomb I 

Or is it feeble nature calls me baek. 
And breaks my spirit into grief again ? 
■ Is it a Stygian vapour in my blood .'' 
A cold, slow puddle, creeping through my veins ? 
Or is it thus with all men i* — Thus with all. 
What are we ? How unequal ! Now we soar, 
And now we sink ; to be the same, transcends 
Our present prowess. Dearly pays the soul 
For lodging ill ; too dearly rents her clay. 
Reason, a bathed counsellor ! but adds 
The blush of weakness to the bane of woe, 
The noblest spirit fighting her hard fate. 
In this damp, dusky region, charged with storms, 
But feebly tiutters,'yet untaught to fly ; 
Or, flying, short her flight, and sure her jfall. 
Our utmost strength, when down, to rise again j 
And not to yield, though beaten, all our praise. 
'Tis vain to seek in men for more than man. 
Though proud in promise, big in previous thought, 
Experience damps our triumph. 1, who late, 
Emerging from the shadows of the grave, 
Where grief detain'd me prisoner, mounting high, 
Threw widcthe gate of everlasting day, 
Andcall'd mankind to glory, shook olfpain, 
Mortality shook oil", iu ether pure, 



«5 THE COMPLAINT. [XiCHt V. 

And struck the stars ; now feel my spirits full : 
They drop nie from the Zenith ; down I rush, 
Like him whom fable fliedged with waxen wings, 
In sorrow drown'd— hut not in sorrow lost. 
How wretched'isthe man who never mourn'd ! 
I dive for precious pearl in sorrow's stream : 
Not so the thoughtless man that only grieves 5 
Takes all the torment, and rejects the gain, 
(Inestimable gain !) and gives Heaven leave 
To make him bur more wretched, not more wise. 

If wisdom is our lesson, (and what else ' 

Ennobles man ? what else liave angels learn'd ?) 
Grief! more proficients in thy school are made. 
Than genius, or proud learning, e'er could boast. , 
Voracious learning, often overfed, 
Digests not into sense her motly meal. 
This book-case, with dark booty almost burst, 
This forager on others' wisdom, leaves 
Her native farm, her reason, quite untill'd. 
With mix'd manure she surfeits the rank soil, 
Dung'd, but not dress'd ; and, rich to beggary, 
A pomp untameableof weeds prevails. 
Her servant's wealth, encumber'd wisdom mourns. 

And what says genius ? " Let the dull be wise." 
Genius, too hard for right, can prove it wrong ; 
And loves to boast, where blush men less inspired. 
It j)leads exemption from the laws of sense ; 
Considers reason as a leveller ; 
And scorns to share a blessing with the crowd. 
That wise it could be, thinks an ample claim 
To glory, and to pleasure gives the rest. 
Crassus but sleeps, Ardelio is undone. 
Wisdom less shudders at a fool, than wit. 

But wisdom smiles, when humbled mortals weep. 
When sorrow wounds the breast, as ploughs the glebe, 
And hearts obdurate feel her softening shower j 
Her seed celestial, then, glad wisdom sows ; 
Her golden harvest triumphs in the soil. 
If so, Narcissa ! welcome my relapse ; 
I'll raise a tax on my calamity. 
And reap rich compensation from my pain. 
I'll range the plenteous intellectual field ; 
And gather every thought of sovereign power 
To chase the moral maladies of man ; 
Thoughts which may bear transplanting to the skies, 
Though natives of this coarse penurious soil ; 
Nor wholly wither there, where seraphs sing, 
Refine'd, exalted, notannull'd, in heaven. 
Reason, the sun that gives them birth, the same 
In either clime, tliough more illustrious there. 
These choicely cuU'd, and elegantly ranged, 



THE RELAPSE. ( 

Shall form a garland for Narcissa's tomb ; 
And, jieradventure, of no fading flowers. 

Pay, on what themes shall puzzled choice descend 
*' Th' importance of contemplatinj; the tombj 
Why men decline it, suicide's foul birth ; 
Tlie various kind of grief : the faults of age ; 
And death's dread cliaracter — invite my song." 

And first, th' importance of our end survey 'd. 
Friends counsel quick dismission of our grief: 
Mistaken kindness ! our hearts heal too soon. 
Are they more kind than He, who struck the blow ? 
Who bid it do Jiis errand in our hearts, 
And banish peace, till nobler guests arrive, 
And bring it back, a true, and endless peace? 
Calamities are friends ; as glaring day 
Of these tmnumber'd lustres robs our sight ; 
Prosperity puts out unnumber'd thoughts 
Of import high, and light divine, to man. 

The man how blest, who, sick of gaudy scenes, 
(Scenes apt to thrust between us and ourselves I) 
l8 led by choice to take his favourite walk. 
Beneath death's gloorhy, silent, cypress shades, . 
Unpierced by vanity's fantastic ray ; 
To read his monuments, to weigh his dust. 
Visit his vaults, and dwell among the tombs ! 
Lorenzo ! read with me Narcissa's stone ; 
(Narcissa was thy favourite ;) let us read 
Her moral stone : few doctors preach so well ; 
Few orators so tenderly can touch 
The feeling heart. What pathos in the date ! 
Apt words can strike : and yet in them we see 
Faint images of what we, here, enjoy. 
What cause have we to build on lenffth of life ? 
Teioptations seize, when fear is laid asleep ; 
And ill foreboded is our strongest guard. 

See, from her tomb, as from an humble shrine. 
Truth, radient goddess ! sallies on my soul, 
And puts delusion's dusky train to flight ; 

Fispels the mists our sultry passions raise, 
rom objects low, terrestrial, and obscene ; 
And shows the real estimate of thinirs ; 
Which no man, unafflicted, ever saw ; 
Pulls off" the veil from virtue's rising charms; 
Detects temptation in a thousand lies. 
Truth bids me look on men, as autumn leaves ; 
And all they bleed for, as the summer's dust. 
Driven by the whirlwind : lighted by her beams, 
T widen my horizon, sain new powers. 
See things invisible, feel thipgs remote, 
Am present with futurities ; think nought 
To man so foreign, as the joys possess'd ; 
^'ought so much liis, as those beyond the grave. 



70 THE COMPLAINT. [Night V. 

her siorht : 

Pale worldly wisdom loses all her cJiarms ; 

Tn pompous promise from her schemes profound, 

£f future fate she plans, 'tis all in leaves, 

Like Sibyl, unsubstantial, fleeting bliss t 

At the first blast it vanishes in air. 

Not so celestial. Wouldst thou know, Lorenzo ! 

How differ worldly wisdom, and divine.' 

Just as the waning, and the waxing, moon. 

More empty worldly wisdom every day ; 

And every day more fair her rival shines. 

When later, there's less time to play the fool. 

Soon our whole term for wisdom is exjnred, 

{Thou knovv'st she calls no council in the grave ;) 

As everlasting fool is writ in fire, 

Or real wisdom wafts us to the skies. 
And worldly schemes resemble Sibyl's leaves, 

The good man's days to Sibyl's books compare 

(fn ancient story read, thou know'st the tale,) 

In price still rising, as in number less, 

Inestimable quite his final hour. 

For th^t who thrones can offer, offer thrones ; 

Insolvent worlds the purchase cannot pay. 

*' Oh let me die his death !" all nature cries. 

" Then live his life."— All nature faulters there. 

Our great physician daily to consult, 

To commune with the grave our only cure 

What grave prescribes the best } — A friend's : and yet, 

From a friend's grave, how soon we disengage ! 

Even to the dearest, as his marble, cold'. 

Why are friends ravish'd from us ? 'Tis to bind. 

By soft affection's ties on human hearts. 

The thought of death, which reason, too supine. 

Or misemploy'd, so rarely fastens there. 

Nor reason, nor affection, no, nor both 

Combined, can break the witchcrafts of the world. 

Behold th' inexorable hour at hand ! 

Behold, th' inexorable hour forgot! 

And to forget it, the chief aim of life; 

Though well to ponder it, is life's chief end. 

Is death, that ever threatening, ne'er remote, 
That all important, and that only sure 
(Come when he will,) an unexpected guest .'' 
Nay, though invited by the loudest calls 
Of blind imprudence, unexpected still ; 
Though numerous messengers are sent before, 
To warn his great arrival. What the cause. 
The wondrous cause of this mysterious ill i* 
AH heaven looks down astqnish'd at the sight, 
Js it, that life has sown Jier joys so thick, 



THE RELAPSE. 

We can't thnist in a single care between ? 

fs it, tJiat life has such a swarm of cares, 

Tlie tlioiielif of death can't enter for the throng ? 

[s it, that time steals on witii downy feet, 

Nor wakes indulgence from her golden dream ? 

To-day is so like yesterday, it cheats ; 

We take the lying sister for the same. 

Life glides away, Lorenzo ! like a hrook ; 

For ever changinsi, unperceived the change. 

In the same brook none ever bathed him twice : 

To the same life none ever twice awoke. 

We cad the brook the same ; the same we think 

Our life, thougii still more nipid in its flow ; 

Kor mark the much, irrevocably lapsed, 

And mingled with the sea. Or shall we say 

(Retaining still the brook to bear us on,) 

That life is like a vessel on the stream ? 

In lifeembark'd, we smoothly down the tide 

Of time descend, but not on time intent ; 

Amused, unconscious of the gliding wave ; 

Till on a sudden we perceive a shock : 

We start, awake, look out ; what see we there ? 

Our brittle bark is bur^ on Charon's shore. 

Is this the cause death flies all human thought ? 
Or is it judgment, by the will struck blind. 
That domineering mistress of the soul ! 
Like him so strong, by Delilah the fair? 
Or is it fear Uirns startled reason back. 
From looking down a precijiice so steep ? 
'Tis dreadful; and the dread is wisely placed. 
By nature, conscious of the make of man. 
A dreadful friend ills, a terror kind, 
A flaming sword, to guard the tree of life. 
hy that unawed, in life's most smiling hour. 
The good man would repine : would suflxr joys, 
And burn impatient for his promised skies. 
The bad, on each punctillions pique of pride. 
Or gl(X)m of humour, would give rage the rein : 
Hound o'er the barrier, rush into the dark. 
And mar the schemes of Providence below. 

What groan was that, Lorenzo ? — Furies '. rise 
And drown in your less execrable yell, 
Britannia's shame. There took her gloomy flight, 
On winn impetuous, a black sullen soul. 
Blasted from hell, with horrid lust of death. 
Thy friend, the brave, the gallant Altamont, 
So call'd, so thought — and then he fled the field. 
Less base the fear of death, than fear of life. 
O Britain, infamous for suicide! 
An island in thy manners ; far disjoin'd 
From the wliolu world of ratiuuals beside ^ 



Hi THE COMPLAINT. [Night V. 

In ambient waves plunge thy polluted h«ad. 
Wash the dire stain, nor shock tite contuient.. 

But thou be shocii'd, while I detect the cause 
Of self assault, expose the monster's birth, 
And bid abhorrence hiss it round, the world. 
Blame not thy dime, nor chide the distant sun ;, 
The sun is innocent, thy clini,e absolved : 
Immoral climes kind nature never made, 
The cause I sing, in Eden might prevail j 
And j>roves, it.is tby folly, not thy fate. 

The soul of man (let man in homage bow. 
Who names his soul,) a native of the skies ! 
High-born, and free, her freedom should maintain^ 
Unsold unmortgaged for eartii's little bribes. 
Th' jllustriaus stranger, in this foreign land, 
Lilte strangers, jealous of her dignity, 
Studious of home, and ardent to retuni. 
Of earth suspicious, earth's enchanted cup 
With cool reserve liglu touching, should ind-ulge. 
On immortality, her godliiie taste ; 
There take large draugiit;s ; make her chief banfjueH 

But some reject this sustenance divine ; [there. 

To beggarly vile appetites descend ; 
Ask alms of earth, for guests that came from heaven ! 
Sink into slaves ; and sell,, fiw present hire, 
Their rich reversion, and (what shares its fate) 
Their native freedom, to the prince who sways 
This netherworld. And when his payments fail^ 
When his foul- basket gorges Uiem no irvore, 
Or their pall'd palates loathe the basket full j 
Are instantly, with \yild demoniac rage. 
For breaking all the chains of Providence,, 
And bursting their confinement ; though fast barr't^ 
By laws divine and huma?i ; guarded strong 
With horrors doubled to defend the pass. 
The blackest, nature, or dire guilt, can raise; 
And moated round with fathomless destruction, 
Sure to receive, and whelm theny in their fall. 

Such, Britons I is the cause, to you unknown. 
Or worse, o'erlook'd ; o'erlopfced by niagistrates^ 
Thus mminaVs themselves. I grant the deed 
Is madness ; but the madness of the lieart. 
And what is that? Our utmost bound of guilt. 
A sensual, unreflecting life, is big 
With monstrous birtJ>s ; and suicide, to crowa 
The black infernal brood. The bold to break 
Heaven's laws supreme, and desperately rush,^ 
Through sacred nature's murder, on their own, 
Because they never think of death, they die. 
'Tis equally man's duty, glory, gain, 
At once t,o shun^ and meditate hi,s end. 



THE HELAPSE 7| 

When by the hfd of lansnishment we sit 
(The seat of wisdom ! if our choice, not fate,} 
Or, o'erour d.ving friends in anguish hanjr, 
Wipe the cold dew, or stay the sinking head. 
Number their moments, and, in every clock, 
Start at the voice of an eternity ; 
See the dim lamp of life just feebly lift 
An agonizing beam, at us to gaze, 
Then sink again, and quiver into death, 
That most pathetic herald of our own ; 
How read \ve such sad sceues ? As sent toman. 
In perfect vengeance ? No ; in pity sent, 
To melt him down, like wax, and then impresSjj^ 
Indelible, death's image on his heart; 
Bleeding for others, trembling for himself. 
We bleed, Ave tremble, we forget, we sniiJe. 
The mind turns fool, before the cheek is dry. 
Our quick-returning folly cancels all ; 
As the tide rushing vases what is writ 
In yielding sands, and smooths the Jetter'd shore, 

Lorenzo ! hast thou ever weigh'd a sigh ? 
Or studied the philosophy of tears .^ 
(A science, yet unlectiired in our schools !) 
Hast thou descended deep into the breast, 
And seen their source ? If not, descend with me, 
And trace these briny rivulets to their springs. 

Our funeral tears from different causes rise. 
As yf from separate cisterns in the soul. 
Of various kinds they flow. From tender hearts, 
By soft contagion cail'd, some burst at once, 
And stream obsequious to the leading eye. 
Some ask more time, by curious art distill'd, 
Some hearts in secret hard, unapt to melt, 
Struck by the magic of the public eye. 
Like Mo3Es* smitten rock, gush out amain. 
Some weep to share the fame of the deceased, 
So high in merit, and to them so dear ; 
They dwell on praises, which they think they share j 
And thus, without a blush commend themselves. 
Some mourn, in proof that something they could love j 
They weep not to relieve their grief; but show. 
Some weep in perfect justice to the dead. 
As conscious all their love is in arrear. 
Some mischievously weep, not unapprised. 
Tears, sometimes, aid the conquest of an eye. 
With what address the soft Ephesians draw 
Their sable net-work o'er entangled hearts ! 
As seen through crystal, how their roses glow, 
While liquid pearl runs trickling down their cheek I 
Of hers not prouder Egypt's wanton queen, 
Carousing geips, herself dissolved iii love, 



74 THE COMPLAINT. [^"^''ght V. 

Some weej) at death, abstracted from the dead, 
And celebrate, like Charles, their own decease. 
By kind construction some are deem'd to Aveep 
Because a decent voi! conceals their joy. 

Some weep in earnest, and yet weep in vain, 
As deep in indiscretion, as in woe. 
Passion, blind passion! inipoteutly pours 
Tears, that deserve more tears ; wiiile reason sleeps j 
Or gazes like an idiot, unconcern'd ; 
Nor comprehends the ineanin)i of the storm ; 
Knows not it speaks to her, and her alone. 
Irrationals all sorrow are beneath, 
That noble gift ! tiiat privilege of man ! 
From sorrow's pang, the birth of endless joy — 
But these are barren of that birth divine : 
They weep impetuous, as the summer storm, 
And full as short! The cruel grief soon tamed. 
They make a pastime of the stingless tale ; 
Far as the deep-resounding knell, they spread 
The dreadful news, and hardly feel it more. 
No grain of wisdom pays them for their woe. 

Half-round the globe, the tears pump'd up by death 
Are spent in watering vanities of life ; 
In making folly flourish still more fair. 
When the sick soul, her wonted stay withdrawn, 
Reclines on earth, and sorrows in the dust j 
Instead of learning, there, her true support, 
Though there thrown down hertrue support to learnj 
Without Heaven's aid, impatient to be blest, 
She crawls to the next shrub, or bramble vile. 
Though from the stately cedar's arms she fell ; 
With stale, forsworn embraces, clings anew, 
The stranger weds, and blossoms, as before, 
In all the fruitless fopperies of life : 
Presents her weed, well-fancied, at the ball. 
And raffles for the death's-head on the ring. 

So wept AuEELiA, till the destined youth 
Slept in, with his receipt for making smiles, 
And blanching sables into bridal bloom. . 
So wept LoR"ENzo fair Clarissa's fate ; 
Who gave that angel boy, on whom he dotes ; 
And died to give him, orphan'd in his birth ! 
Not such Narcissa, my distress for thee. 
, Ml make an altar of thy sacred tomb. 
To sacrifice to wisdom. — What wast thou ? 
" Young, gay, and fortunate !" Each yields a theme 
I'll dwell on each to sjjuii thought more severe ; 
(Heaven knows I labour with severer still !) 
I'll dwell on each, and quite exhaust thy death. 
A soul without reflection, like a pile 
Without inhabitant, to ruin runs, 



THE RELAPSE. '^ 

And, first, thy youth. WJiat says it to grey liairs ? 
Nabcissa, I'm become thy |iiipil now — 
Early, bright, transient, chaste, as morning dew, 
She sparl\Ied, was exhaled, and went to heaven. 
Time on his head hassnow'd ; yet still 'tis borne 
Aloft! nor thinks but on another's grave. 
Cover'd with shame I speak it, age severe 
Old worn-out vice sets down for virtue fair; 
With graceless gravity, chastising youth. 
That youth chastised surpassing in a fault, 
Father of all forgetfulness of death : 
As if, like objects pressing on the sight, 
Death had advanced too near us to be seen : 
Or, that life's loan time ripen'd into right ; 
And men might plead prescription from the grave ; 
Deathless, from repetition of reprieve. 
Deathless ? far from it ! such are dead already ; 
Their hearts are buried, and the world their grave. 

Tell me, some god ! my guardian angel ! tell. 
What thus infatuates.? What enchantment plants 
The phantom of an use 'twixtus, and death 
Already at the door ? He knocks, we hear. 
And yet we will not hear. What mail defends 
Our untouch'd hearts? What miracle turns off 
The pointed thought which from a thousand quivers 
Is daily darted, and is daily shunn'd ? 
We stand, as in a battle, throngs on throngs 
Around us falling ; wounded oft ourselves ; 
Though bleeding with our wounds, immortal still ! 
W^e see time's furrows on another's brow. 
And death, entrench'd, preparing his assault ; 
How few themselves, in that just mirror, see ! 
Or seeing, draw their inference as strong ! 
There death is certain ; doubtful here : he must, 
And soon ; we may, within an age, expire. [green ; 
Though grey our heads, our thoughts and aims are 
Like damaged clocks, whose hand and bell dissent j 
Folly sings six, while nature points at twelve. 

Absurd longevity ! More, more, it cries ; 
More life, more wealth, more trash of every kind. 
And wherefore mad for more, when relish fails.' 
Object and appetite, must club for joy ; 
Shall folly labour hard to mend the bow. 
Baubles, I mean, that strike us from without, 
While nature is relaxing every string ? 
Ask thought for joy ; grow rich, and hoard withui. 
Think you the soul, when this life's rattles cease, 
Has nothing more of manly to succeed ? 
Contract the taste immortal ; learn, even now, 
To relish what alone subsists hereafter : 
Divine, or none, bencefortji your joys for e,ver . 



76 THE COMPLAINT. [Night V. 

Of age the glory is, to wis'j to die. 
That wisli is praise, and promise ; it applauds 
Past life, and promises our future bliss. 
What weakness see not children in their sires ? 
Grand-climacterical absurdities ! 
Grey-hair'd authority, to faults of youth, 
How shocking ! It makes folly thrice a fool ; 
And our first childhood might our last despise. 
Teace and esteem is all that age can hope. 
Nothing but wisdom gives the first ; the last, 
Nothing but the repute of being wise. 
Folly bars both ; our age is quite undone. 

What folly can be ranker? Like our shadows, 
Our wishes lengthen, as our sun declines. 
No wish should loiter, then, this side the grave. 
Our hearts should leave the world, before the knell 
Calls for our carcasses to mend the soil. 
Enough to live in tempest, die in port ; 
Age should fly concourse, cover in retreat 
Defects of judgment, and the will's subdue ; 
Walk thoughtful on the silent, solemn shore 
Of that vast ocean it must sail so soon ; 
And put good works on board ; and wait the wind 
That shortly blows us into worlds unknown : 
If unconsider'd too, a dreadful scene ! 

All should be prophets to themselves ; foresee 
Their future fate ; their future fate foretaste ; 
This art would waste the bitterness of death. 
The thought of death alone, the fear destroys. 
A disaffection to that precious thought 
Is more than midnight darkness on the soul. 
Which sleeps beneath it. on a precipice, 
Puff'd off by the first blast, and lost forever. 

Dost ask, Lorenzo, why so warmly press'd, 
By repetition hammer'd on thine ear. 
I'he thouaht of death ? That thought is the machine, 
The grand machine ! that heaves us from the dust, 
And rears us into men. That thought plied home, 
Will soon reduce the ghastly precipice- 
O'er-hanging hell, will soften the descent, 
And gently slope our passage to the grave ; 
How warmly to be wish'd I What heart of flesh 
Would trifle with tremendous ? dare extremes ? 
yawn o'er the fate of infinite ? What hand, 
lleyond the blackest brand Of censure bold 
(To speak a language too well known to thee,) 
Would at a moment give its all to chance, 
And stamp the die for an eternity ? 

Aid me, Narcissa ! aid me to keep pace 
With destiny ; and, ere her scissors cut 
BIy tiireud of life, to break this tougher thread 



THE RELAPSE. 77 

Of moral death, that ties me to tlie worlrl. 
Hting thou my slumherin*: reason to send forth 
A thought of observation on the foe ; 
To sally ; and survey the rapid march 
Of his ten thousand messencers to man ; 
Who, JEHT'-like, behind him turns them al). 
All accident apart, by nature sicn'd, 
My warrant is gone out, though dormant yet : 
Perhaps behind one moment lurks my fate. 

Must I then forward onlj'look for death ? 
Backward I turn mine eye, and find him there 
Man is a self-survivor every year. 
Man, like a stream is in perpetual flow. 
Death's a destroyer of quotidian prey. 
My youth, my noon-tide, his ; my yesterday j 
^The bold invader shares the present hour. 
Each moment on the former shuts the grave 
While man is growing, life is in decrease ; 
And cradles rock us neai-erto the tomb. 
Our birth is nothing but our death begun ; 
As tapers waste that instant they tnke fire. 
Shall we then fear, lest that should come to plass^ 
Which comes to pass eaci) moment of our lives ,' 
If fear we must, let that death turn us pale, 
Which murders strength and ardour ; what remains 
Should rather call on death, than dread his call. 

Ye partners of my fault, and my decline ! 
Thoughtless of death, but when your neighbour's knell 
(Rude visitant !) knocks hard at your dull sense, 
And with its thunder scarce obtains your ear ! 
Be death your theme, in every place and hour j 
Nor longer want, ye monumental sires I 
A brother-tomb to tell you you shall die. 
That death you dread (so great is nature's skill !) 
Know, you shall court before you shall enjoy. 

But you are learn'd ; in volumes deep you sit ; 
In wisdom shallow. Pompous ignorance ! 
Would you be still more learned than the learn'd .' 
Learn well to know how much need not be known. 
And what that knowledge, which impairs your sense. 
Our needful knowledge, like our needful food. 
Unhedged, lies open in life's common field ; 
And bids all welcome to the vital feast. 
Vou scorn what lies before you in the page 
Of natiu-e, and exjierience moral truth ; 
Of indispensable, eternal fruit ; 
Fruit on which mortals feeding, turn to gods : 
And dive in science for distinguish'd names, 
Dishonest fomentation of your pride ; 
Sinking in virtue, as you rise in fame. ^ ' 

Your learning, like the lunar-beam, afl^ords 
Light, but not heat ; it leaves you o" ' •■"-•t. 



78 THE COMPLAINT. [NiaHT V. 

Frozen at heart, while speculation shines. 

Awake, ye curious indagators 1 fond 

Of know-ing all, but what avails you known. 

If you would learn death's character, attend : 

All casts of conduct, all degrees of health, 

All dies of fortune, and all dates of age, 

Together shook in his impartial urn, 

Come forth at random ; or, if choice is made, 

The choice is quite sarcastic, and insults 

All bold conjecture, and fond hopes of man. 

What countless multitudes not only leave, 

But deeply disappoint us, by their deaths ! 

Though great our sorrow, greater our surprise. — 

Like other tyrants, death delights to smite. 

What, smitten, most proclainTs the pride of power, 

And arbitrary nod. His joy supreme. 

To bid the wretch survive the fortunate ; 

The feeble wrap th' athletic in his shroud ;- 

And weeping fathers buihl their children's tomb t 

Me, thine, Narcissa ! — What though short thy date ! 

Virtue, not .rolling suns, the mind matures. 

That life is long, which answers life's great end. 

The time that bears no fruit, deserves no name j 

The man of wisdom is the man of years. 

In hoary youth Methusalems may die ! 

Oh how misdated on their flattering tombs ! 

Narcissa's youth has lectured me thus far. 
And can her gaiety give counsel too ? 
That, like the Jews' famed oracle of gems. 
Sparkles instruction ; such as throws new light, 
And opens more the character of d3ath ; 
HI known to thee, Lorenzo ! This thy vaunt : 
" Give death his due, the wretched and the old ; 
Even let him sweep his rubbish to the grave : 
Let him not violate kind nature's laws. 
But own man born to live, as well as die." 
Wretched and old thou givest him ; young and gay 
He takes ; and plunder is a tyrant's joy. 
What if I prove, the furthest from the fear 
Are often nearest to the stroke of fate ?" 

All, more than common, menaces an end ; 
A blaze betokens brevity of life : 
As if bright embers should emit aflame. 
Glad spirits sparkled from Narcissa's eye. 
And madeyouth younger, and taught life to live. 
As nature's opposites wage endless war, 
For this offence, as treason to the deep 
Inviolable stupor of his reign, 
WHierelust, and turbulent ambition, sleep. 
Death took swift vengeance. As he life detests, 
More life is still more odious ; and, reduced 
By conquest, aggrandizes more his power. 



THE RELAPSE. 79 

Cut wherefore airgrandized ? By Heaven's decree, 

To plant the soul on her eternal guard, 

In awful expectation of our end. 

Thus runs death's dread commission : " Strike, but sc^ 

As most alarms the living by the dead." 

Hence stratagem delights him, and surprise. 

And cruel sport with man's securities. 

Not simple conquest, triumph is his aim ; 

And, where least fear'd, there conquest triumphs most. 

This proves my bold assertion not too bold. 

What are his arts to lay our fears asleep ? 
Tiberian arts his purposes wrap up 
In deep dissimulation's darkest night. 
Like princes unconfess'd in foreign courts 
Who travel under cover, death assumes 
The name and look of life, and dwells among us. 
He takes all shapes that serve his black designs : 
Though master of a wider empire far 
Than that o'er which the Iloman e.igle flew j 
Like Nero, he's a fiddler, charioteer. 
Or drives his phseton, in female guise ; 
Quite unsuspected, till, the wheel beneath. 
His disarray'd oblation he devours. 

He most effects the forms least like himself, 
His slender self. Hence burly corpulence 
Is his familiar wear, and sleek disguise. 
Behind the rosy bloom he loves to lurk. 
Or ambush in "a smile, or wanton dive 
In dimples deep ; love's eddies, which draw in 
Unwary hearts, and sink them in despair. 
Such on Narcissa's couch he loiter'd long 
Unknown ; and, when detected, still was seen 
To smile ; such peace has innocence in death ! 

Most happy they ! whom least his arts deceive. 
One eye on death, and one full fix'd on heaven, 
Becomes a mortal, and immortal man. 
Long on his wjles a piqued and jealous spy, 
I've seen,,or dreampt I saw, the tyrant dress; 
Lay by his horrors, and put on his smiles. 
Say, muse, for thou remember'st, call it back. 
And show Lorenzo the surprising scene 3 
If 'twas a dream, his genius can explain. 

'Twas in the circle of the gay I stood. 
Death w^ould haveenter'd ; nature push'd him back : 
Supported by a doctor of renown, 
His point he gain'd ; then artfully dismiss'd 
The sage ; for death design"'d to be conceai'd, 
He gave an old vivacious usurer 
His meagre aspect, and his naked bones ; 
In gratitude for plumping up his prey, 
A pamper'd spendthrift ; w hose fantastic air, 



aO THE COMPLALNT. [Nioht V. 

Well fiishioii'd fi<_'ure, and cockadcil brow, 
He todk in change, and underneati! the pride 
Of costly lin(;n, tiick'd his tilthy shroud. 
Ilis crooked how he straiten'd lo a cane ; 
And hid his deadly shatls in Myra's eye, 

The dreadful niasqiieVader, thusequipp'd. 
Out sallies on adventures Ask you where? 
Where is he not? For his peculiar haunts, 
Let this suffice ; sure as night follows dav, 
Death treads in pleasures footsteps round the World. 
When pleasure treads the paths which reason shuns. 
When, against reason, riot shuts the door, 
And gaiety supplies the place of sense. 
Then, foremost at the banquet, and the ba)l. 
Death leads the dance, or stamps the deadly die; 
iVoV ever fails the midnight boWl to crown. 
Oaily carousing to his gay compeers, 
filly he laujihs, \o see them laugh at him. 
As absent far : and when the revel burns, 
WHien fear is banish'd, And triumphant thought, 
Calling for all the joys beneath the moon. 
Against him turns the key, and bids him sup 
Witli their progenitors — he drops his mask ; 
Frowns out at full ; ttiey start, despair, expire, 
Scarce with more sudden terror and sur|trise. 
From his black mask of nitre, touch'd by fire, 
He bursts, expands, roars, blazes and devours. 
And is this not triumphant treachery. 
And more than simple conquest, in the fiend ? — 
And now LoREitzo, dost thou wrap thy soUl 
In soft security, because unknown 
Which moment is commission'd to destroy ? 
In death's uncertainty thy danger lies. 
Is death uncertain ? Therefore thou be fix'd ; 
Fix'das a centinel, all eye, all ear. 
All expectatio?! of the coming foe. 
Rouse, stand in arms, nor lean against thy spear j 
Lest slumber steal one moment o'er thy soul. 
And fate surprise thee nodding. Watch, he strong. 
Thus give each day the merit, and renown. 
Of dying well ; though doom'd but once to die. 
Nor let life's period hidden (as from most) 
Hide too from thee the precious use of life. — 
Early, not sudden, was Narcissa's fate. 
iSoon,not surprising, death his visit paid. 
Iler thought went forth to meet him on his way, 
Nor gaiety forgot it was to die : 
Though fortune too (our third and final theme,) 
As an accomplice, play'd her gaudy plumes. 
And every glittering gewgaw, on her sight, 
To dazzle and debauch it from its mark. 



THE REI-APSE. &1 

Death's dreadful advent is tliemark of man j 

And every flionght tliat misses it, is Mind, 

Fortune, with youth and gaiety, con.spired 

To weave a triple wreath of happiness 

(If happiness on earth) to crown her brow. 

And could death charge through such a shining shield.' 

Thatsliining shield invites the tyrant's spear, 
As if to damp our elevated aims. 
And strongly preach hunwiity to man. 
O how portt litious is prosjx^rity ! 
How comet-like, it threatens, while it shines t 
Few jears but yield us proofs of death's ambition. 
To cull his victims from the fairest fold. 
And sheath his shafts in all the pride of life. 
When flooded with abundance, purpled o'er 
With recent honours, bloom'd with every bliss, 
Set up in ostentation, made the gaze, 
The gaudy centre of the public eye ; 
When fortune thus has toss'd her child in air, 
Snatch'd from the covert of an humble state, 
How often have 1 seen him dropp'd at once, 
Our morning's envy ! and our evening's sigh t 
As if her bounties were the signal given. 
The flowery wreath to mark the sacrifice. 
And call death's arrows on the destined prey. 

High fortune seems in cruel league with fate. 
Ask you, for what ? To give his war on man 
The deeper dread, and more illustrious spoil ; 
Thus to keep daring mortals more in awe. 
And burns Lorenzo still for the sublime 
Of life ? to hang his airy nest un high. 
On the slight timber of the topmost bough, 
Rock'd at each breeze, and menacing a fall? 
Granting grim death at equal distance there ; 
Yet peace begins just where ambition ends. 
What makes man wretched .' Happiness denied ? 
Lorenzo ! no : 'tis happiness disdain'd. 
She comes too meanly dress'd to win our sraile : 
And calls herself Content, a homely name I 
Our flame is transport, and content our scorn. 
Ambition turns, and shuts the door against her, 
And weds a toil, a tempest, in her stead j ' 
A tempest to warm transport near of kin. 
Unknowing what our mortal state admits. 
Life's modest joys we ruin, while we raise ; 
And all our ecstacies are wounds to peace ; 
Peace, to the full portion of mankind below. 

And since thy peace is dear, ambitious youth ! 
Of fortune fond ! as thoughtless of thy fate ! 
As late I drew death's picture, to stir up 
Thy wholegome fears ; now, drawn in contragt, see 
F 



82 THE COMPLAINT. [Niqht V. 

Gay fortune's, thy vain hopes to reprimand. 
See, high in air, the sportive goddess hangs, 
Unlocks her casket, spreads her glittering ware, 
And calls the giddy winds to puff abroad 
Her random bounties o'er the gaping throng 
All rush rapacious ; friends o'er trodden friends ; 
Sons o'er their fathers, subjects o'er their kings, 
Priests o'er their gods, and lovers o'er the fair, 
(Still more adored) to snatch the golden shower. 

Gold glitters most, where virtue shines no more ; 
As stars from absent suns have leave to shine. 
O what a precious pack of votaries 
Unkennel'd from the prisons, and the stews, 
Pour in, all opening in their idol's praise ; 
All, ardent, eye each vvafture of her hand, 
And, wide-expanding their voracious jaws, 
Morsel on morsel swallow down unchew'd. 
Untasted, through mad appetite for more ; 
Gorged to the throat, yet lean and ravenous still : 
Sagacious all, to trace the smallest game. 
And bold to seize the greatest. If (bless'd chance t) 
Court-zephyrs sweetly breathe, they launch, they fly. 
O'er just, o'er sacred, all-forbidden ground. 
Drunk with the burning scent of place or power, 
Staunch to the foot of lucre, till they die. 

Or, if for men you take them, as [ mark 
Their manners thou their various fates survey. 
With aim mismeasured, and impetuous speed, 
Some darting, strike their ardent wish far off. 
Through fhry to possess it: some succeed. 
But stumble, and let fall the taken prize. 
From some, by sudden blasts, 'tis whirl 'd away, 
And lodged in bosoms that ne'er dream'd of gain . 
To some it sticks so close, that, when torn off, 
Torn is the man, and mortal is the wound. 
Some, o'er-enamour'd of their bags, run mad, 
Groan under gold, yet weep for want of bread. 
Together some (unhappy rivals !) seize. 
And rend abundance into poverty ; 
Loud croaks the raven of the law, and smiles : 
Smiles too the goddess ; but smiles most at those, 
(Just victims of exorbitant desire !) 
Who perish at their own request, and, whelm'd 
Beneath her load of lavish grants, expire. 
Fortune is famous for her number slain : 
The number small, which happiness can bear. 
Though various for awhile their fates ; at last 
One curse involves them all : at death's approach, 
All read their riches backward into loss. 
And mourn, in just proportion to their store. 

And death's approach (if orthodox my song) 



THE RELAPSE. 83 

Is liasten'd by the lure of fortune's smiles. 
And art thou still a glutton of bright gold ? 
And art thou still rapacious of thy ruin ? 
Death loves a shining mark, a signal blow ; 
A blow, which, while it executes, alarms ; 
And startles thousands with a single fall. 
As when some stately growth of oak, or pine, 
Which nods aloft, and proudly spreads her shade. 
The sun's defiance, arid the fiock's defence ; 
By the strong strokes of labouring hinds subdued. 
Loud groans her last, and, rushing from her height, 
In cumbrous ruin, thunders to the ground : 
The conscious forest trembles at the shock, 
And hill, and stream, the distant dale, resound. 

These highaim'd darts of death, and these alone, 
Should 1 collect, my quiver would be full : 
A quiver, which, suspended in mid air,' 
Or near heaven's archer, in the zodiac, hung 
(So could it be,) should draw the public eye, 
The gaze and contemplation of mankind ! 
A constellation awful, yet benign, 
To guide the gay through life's tempestuous wave ; 
Nor suffer them to strike the common rock, 
" From greater danger to grow more secure. 
And, wrapt in happiness, forget their fate." 

Lysander, happy past the common lot, 
Was warn'd of danger, but too gay to fear. 
He woo'd the fair Aspasia : she was kind : 
In youth, form, fortune, fame, they both were bless'd ; 
All who knew, envied ; yet in envy loved. 
Can fancy form more finish'd happiness .' 
Fix'd was the nuptial hour. Her stately dome 
Rose on the sounding beach. The glittering spires 
Float in the wave, and break against the shore : 
So break those glittering shadows, human joys. 
The faithless morning smiled : he takes his leave, 
To re-embrace, in ecstacies, at eve. 
The rising storm forbids. The news arrives ; 
Untold, she saw it in her servant's eye. 
She felt it seen (her heart was apt to feel ;) 
And, drown'd, without the furious ocean's aid, 
In suffocating sorrows, shares his tomb. 
Now, round the sumptuous bridal monument, 
The guilty billows innocently roar; 
And the rough sailor, passing, drops a tear. 
A tear ! can tears suffice ? — but not for me. 
How vain our eflbrts ! and our arts, how vain '. 
The distant train of thought f took, to shun. 
Has thrown me on my fate — these died together 3 
Happy in ruin ! undivorced by death I 
Or ne'er to meet, or ne'er to part, is peace— 



84 THE COMPLAINT. [Night V. 

Narcissa • pity Ijleeds at thought of thee. 

Yet thou wast onlv near me ; not myself. 

Survive myself?— That cures all other woe. 

Narcissa lives ; Philander is forgot. 

O the soft commerce ! O the tender ties, 

Close twisted with the fibres of the heart ! 

Wiiich, broken, break them ; and drain off the soul 

Of human joy ; and make it pain to live— 

And is it then to live ? When such friends part, 

»Ti3 the survivor dies— My heart ! no more. 



NIGHT THE SIXTH. 

THE INFIDEL RECLAIMEB. 

IN TWO PARTS. 



Containing the JSTature, Proof, and Importance of Immor- 
talUy. 



PART THE FIRST. 

Where, among other Things, Glory and Riches 
are particularly considered. 



PREFACE. 

Few ages liavebeen deeper in dispute about religion 
than this. The dispute about religion, and the prac- 
tice of it, seldom po together. The shorter, therefore, 
the dispute, the better. I think it may be reduced to 
this single question. Is man immortal, or is be not.-" 
If he is not, all our disputes are merely amusements, or 
trials of skill. In this case, tiuth, reason, religion, 
which give our discourses such pomp and solemnity, 
are (as will be shown) mere empty sounds, witiiout 
any meaning in them. 13ut if man is immortal, it will 
behove him to be very serious about eternal conse- 
quences ; or, in other words, to be truly religious. — 
And this great fundamental truth, unestablished or 
unawakened in the minds of men is, I conceive, the 
real source and support of all our infidelity ; how re- 
mote soever the particular objections advanced may- 
seem to be from it. 

Sensible appearances affect most men much mon? 
than abstract reasonings ;and we daily see bodies drop 
around us, but the soul is invisible. The power which 
inclination has over the judgment, is greater tlian eaa 



85 PREFACE. [Night VI. 

be well conceived by those that have not had an expe- 
rience of it; and of what numbers is it the sad inter- 
est that souls sliould not survive ! The heathen world 
confessed, that they rather hoped than firmly believed 
immortality ; and how many heathens have we still 
amongst us ! The sacred page assures us, that life and 
immortality are brought to light by the Gospel : but by 
how many is the Gospel rejected or overlooked ! From 
these considerations, and from my being, accidentally, 
privy to the sentiments of some particular persons, I 
have been long persuaded that most, if not all, our in- 
fidels (whatever name they take, and whatever scheme, 
for argument's sake, and to keep themselves in coun- 
tenance, they patronise) are supported in their deplor- 
able error, by some doubt of their immortality, at the 
bottom. And I am satisfied, thfit men once thoroughly 
convinced of their immortality, are not far from being 
Christians. For it is hard to conceive, that a man ful- 
ly conscious eternal pain or happiness will certJiinly 
be his lot, should not earnestly and impartially inquire 
after the surest means of escaping the one, and secur- 
ing the other. And of such an earnest and impartial 
inquiry, I well know the consequence. 

Here, therefore, in proof of this most fundamental 
truth, some plain arguments are offered : arguments 
derived from principles which infidels admit in com- 
mon with believers ; arguments, which appear tome 
altogether irresistible ;and such as, 1 am satisfied, will 
have great weight with all who give themselves the 
small trouble of looking seriously into their own bo- 
soms, and of observing, with any tolerable degree of 
attention, what daily passes round about them in the 
world. If some arguments shall here occur which 
others have declined, they are submitted with all def- 
erence, to better judgments in this, of all points the 
most important. For, as to the being of a God , that is 
no longer disputed ; but it is undisputed for this rea- 
son only ; viz. because, where the least pretence to 
reason is admitted, it must for ever be indisputable. 
And, of consequence, no man can be betrayed into a 
dispute of that nature by vanity ; which has a princi 
pal share in animating our modern combatants again-, 
other articles of our belief. 



R7 



THE INFIDEL RECI.AI3IED. 



PART THE FIRST. 



To THE Right Honourable Henby Telham, Fikst 

Lord Commissioner of the 'J reasirv, and 

Chancellor of the ExcHEtiUER. 



She* (For I know not yet bt!!" name in lieaven) 
Not early, like Narcissa, left tJie scene ; 
JVorsudileii, like Philander. What avail ? 
Thil! seemiiig mitigation but inti,Tnies ; 
This fancied med'cine hei<;l)tens the disease. 
Tlielonjier known, the closer still siie grew ; 
And pradnal partin;: is a j?radual death. 
'Tis tlie grim tyrant's engine, which extorts, 
Py tardy pressure's still-increasing weight, 
From hardest hearts, confession of distress, 

O the Ions, dark approach through years of pain, 
Death's" gallery ! (might 1 dare call it so) 
With dismal doubt, and sable terror, hung ; 
Sick liope's pale lamp its only glinmiering ray : 
There, fate my melancholy walk ordain'd. 
Forbid self-love itself to flatter, there. 
How oft [ ga/ed, prophetically sad ! 
How oft 1 eaw her dead, while yet in smiles I 
In smiles she sunk her grief, to lessen mine. 
She spoke nie comfort, and increased my pain. 
Like jK)werful armies trenching at a town. 
By slow, and silent, but resistless sap, 
In his pale progress gently gaining ground. 
Death urged his deadly siege ; in s[)ite of art, 
Of all the balmy blessings nature lends 
To succour frail humanity. Ve stars 1 

* Referring to Xight the Fifth. 



88 THE COMPLAINT. [Night VI. 

(Not now first made familiar to my sight) 

And thou, O moon ! bear witness ; many a night 

He tore the pillovY from beneatli my head, 

Tied down my sore attention to the shock, 

By ceaseless depredations on a life 

Dearer than that he left me. Dreadful post 

Of observation! darker every hour ! 

Less dread the day that drove me to the brink. 

And pointed at eternity below ; 

When my soul shudder'd at futurity ; 

When, on a moment's point, th' important die 

Of life and death spun doubtful, ere it fell, 

And turn'd op life ; my title to more woe. 

But why more woe ? More comfort let it be. 
Nothing is dead, but that which wish'd to die ; 
Nothing is dead, but wretchedness and pain ; 
Nothing is dead, but what encumber'd, gail'd, 
Bleck'd up the pass, and barr'd from real life. 
Where dwells that wish most ardent of the wise ? 
Too dark the sun to see it ; highest stars 
Too low to reach it ; death, great death alone, 
O'er stars and sun, triumphant, leads us there. 

Nor dreadful our transition ; though the mind, 
An artist at creating self alarms, 
Rich in expedients for inquietude. 
Is prone to paint it dreadful. Who can take 
Death's portrait true ? The tyrant never sat. 
Our sketch all random strokes, conjecture all ; 
Close shuts the grave, nor tells one single tale. 
Death, and his image rising in the brain, 
Bear faint resemblance ; never are alike; 
Fear shakes the pencil ; fancy loves excess ; 
Dark ignorance is lavish of her shades : 
And these the formidable picture draw. 

But grant the worst ; 'tis past ; new prospects rise ; 
And drop a veil eternal o'er her tomb. 
Far other views our contemplation claim ; 
Views that o'erpay the rigours of our Fife ; 
Views that suspend our agonies in death. 
Wrapt in the thought of immortality, 
Wrapt in the single, the triumphant thought ! 
Long life might lapse, age unperceived come on ; 
And find the soul unsated with her theme. 
Its nature, proof, importance, fire my song. 
O that my song could emulate my suul ! 
Like her immortal. No '.—the soul disdains 
A mark so mean ; far nobler hope inflames j 
If endless ages can outweigh an hour, 
Let not the laurel, but the palm inspire. 

Thy nature, immortality ! who knows.' 
Andyet who knows it not? It is -but life 



THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 89 

In stronger thread of brighter colour spun, 

And spun for ever. Dipp'd by cruel fate 

In Stygian dye, how black, how brittle here ! 

How short our correspondence with the sun ! 

And while it lasts, inglorious ! Our best deeds. 

How wanting in their weight ! Our highest joys 

Small cordials to support us in our pain. 

And give us strength to suffer. But how great 

To mingle interest, converse, amities. 

With all the sons of reason, scatter'd wide 

Through habitable space, wherever born, 

Howe'er endow'd ! to live free citizens 

Of universal nature ! to lay hold, 

By more than feeble faith, on the Supreme ! 

To call heaveiPs rich unfathomable mines 

(Mines, which support archangels in their state) 

Our own ! to rise in science, as in bliss, 

Initiate in the secrets of the skies ! 

To read creation ; read its mighty plan 

In the tare bosom of the Deity ! 

The plan, and execution, to collate ! 

To see, before each glance of piercing thouglit. 

All cloud, all shadow, blown remote 3 and leave 

No mystery — but that of love divine. 

Which lifts us on the seraphs flaming wing, 

From earth's aceldama, this field of blood. 

Of inward anguish, and of outward ill, 

From darkness, and from dust, to such a scene 

Love's element ! true joy's illustrious home ! 

From earth's sad contrast (now deplored) more fair ! 

What exquisite vicissitude of fate 

Bless'd absolution of our blackest hour ! 

Lorenzo, these are thoughts that make man man, 
The wise illumine, aggrandize the great. 
How great (while yet we tread the kindred clod, 
And every moment fear to sink beneath 
The clod we tread ; soon trodden by our sons :) 
How great, in the wild whirl of time's pursuits, 
To stop, and pause, involved in high presage, 
Through the long vista of a thousand years. 
To stand contemplating our distant selves, 
As in a magnifying mirror seen. 
Enlarged, ennobled, elevate, divine ! 
To prophesy our own futurities ; 
To gaze in thought on what all thought transcends! 
To talk, with fellow candidates, of joys 
As far beyond conception as desert. 
Ourselves th' astonish'd talkers, and the tale ! 

Lorenzo, swells thy bosom at the thought ? 
The swell becomes thee : 'tis an lionest pride. 
B.evere thyself,— and yet thyself despise. 



90 THE COMPLAINT. [Night VI. 

His nature no man can o'er-rate ; and none 

Can iinder-rate his merit. Take good heed, 

Nor there be modest, where thou shouldest be proud ; 

That almost universal error shun. 

How just our pride, when we behold those heights I 

Not those ambition paints in air, but those 

Reason points out, and ardent virtue gains j 

And angels emulate ; our pride how just ! 

When mount we ? when these shackles cast.' when quit 

This cell of the creation ? this small nest, 

Stuck in a corner of the universe, 

Wrapt up in fleecy cloud, and fine spun air ? 

Fine-spun to sense ; but gross and fuculent 

To souls celestial ; souls ordain'd to breathe 

Ambrosial gales, and drink a purer sky 

Greatly triumphant on time's further shore, 

Where virtue reigns, enrich'd with full arrears; 

While pomp imperial begs an alms of peace. 

In empire high, or in proud science deep, 
Ye born of earth ! on what can you confer; 
With half the dignity, with half the gain. 
The gust, the glow of rational delight, 
As on this theme, which angels praise and share ! 
Man's fates and favours are a theme in heaven. 

What wretched repetition cloys us here ! 
What periodic potions for the sick ! 
Distemper'd bodies t and distemper'd minds ! 
In an eternity, what scenes shall strike ! 
Adventures thicken I novelties surprise ! 
What webs of wonder shall unravel, there ! 
AVliat full day pour on all the paths of heaven. 
And light th' Almighty's footsteps in the deep ! 
How shall the blessed day of our discharge 
Unwind at once, the labyrinths of fate, 
And straighten its iiiextricable maxe ! 

If unextinguishable thirst in man 
To know ; how rich, how full, our banquet there ! 
There, not the moral world alone unfolds ; 
The world material, lately seen in shades, 
And, in those shades, by fragments only seen. 
And seen those fragments by the labouring eye, 
Unbroken, then, illustrious, and entire, 
Its ample sphere, its universal frame. 
In full dimensions, swells to the survey ; 
And enters, at one glance, the ravish'd sight. 
From some superior point (where, who can tell .' 
futfice it, 'tis a point where gods reside) 
How shall the stranger man's illumined eye, 
In the vast ocean of unbounded space, 
Behold an infinite of floating world.* 
Divide the crystal waves of wther pure, 



THE IXFIDEL RECLAIMED. 9l 

In endless voyage, without port ! The least 

Of these disseminated orbs, how great : 

Great as they are, what numbers these surpass, 

Huge, as Leviathan, to that small race. 

Those twinkling multitudes of little life, 

He swallows unj)erceived ! Stupendous these ! 

Yet what are these stupendous to the whole ! 

As particles, as atoms ill perceived ; 

As circulating globules in our veins; 

So vast the plan. Fecundity divine ! 

Exuberant source ! perhaps I wrong thee still. 

If admiration is a source of joy, 
What transport hence I Yet tliis the least in heaven. 
What this to that illustrious robe He wears. 
Who toss'd this mass of wonders from his hand, 
A specimen, an earnest of his power ! 
'Tis to that glory, whence all glory flows. 
As the mead's meanest flowret to the sun. 
Which gave it birth. But what, this Sun of heaven ? 
This bliss supreme of the sui)remely bless'd .' 
Death, only death, the question can resolve 
By death, cheap-bought th' ideas of our joy 
The bare ideas ! Solid happiness 
So distant from its shadow chased below. 

And chase we still the phantom tlirough the fire, 
O'er bog, and brake, and precipice, till death.'' 
And toil we still for sublunary pay .'' 
Defy the dangers of the field and flood, 
Or, spider-like, spin out our precious all. 
Our more than vitals spin (if no regard 
To great futurity) in curious webs 
Of subtle thought, and exquisite desicn 
(Fine net-work of the brain,) to catch a fly ! 
The momentary buz of vain renown ! 
A name ! a mortal immortality ! 
Or (meaner still) instead of grasping air, 
For sordid lucre plunge we in the mire ? 
Drudge, sweat, through every shame, for every gain, 
For vile contaminating trash ; throw up 
Our hope in heaven, our dignity with man ; 
And deify the dirt, matured to gold ? 
Ambition, avarice ; the two daemons these. 
Which goad through every slough our human lierd, 
Hard-travell'd from the cradle to the grave. 
How low the wretches stoop ! liow steep they climb I 
These daemons burn mankind ; but most possess 
Lorenzo's bosom, and turn out the skies. 

Is it in time to hide eternity .•* 
And why not in an atom on the shore 
To cover ocean ? or a mote, the sun .-' 
Glory and wealth ! have they this blinding power f 



B2 lllJPi LUMFiiAliM. [Night VI. 

Wliat if to them T prove Lorenzo blind ? 

Would it surprise thee ? Be thou then surprised ; 

Thou neither know'st : their nature learn from me. 
Mark well, as foreign as these subjects seem, 

What close connexion ties them to my theme. 

First, what is true ambition ? The pursuit 

Of glory, nothinj; less than man can share. 

VVere they as vain as gaudy-minded man, 

As flatulent with fumes of self-applause, 

Their arts and conquests animals might boast, 

And claim their laurel crowns, as well as we ; 

iJut not celestial. Here we stand alone ; 

As in our form, distinct, pre-eminent. 

If prone in thought, our stature is our shame ; 

And man should blush, his forehead meets the skies. 

The visible and present are for brutes, 

A slender portion ! and a narrow bound ! 

These reason, with an energy divine, 

O'erleaps ; and claims the future and unseen ; 

The vast unseen ! the future fathomless ! 

When the great soul buoys up to this high point. 

Leaving gross nature's sediments below ; 

Then, and then only, Adam's oflspring quits 

The sage and hero of the fields and woods, 

Asserts his rank, and rises into man. 

This is ambition : this is human tire. 

Can parts or place (two bold pretenders I) make 

Lorenzo great, and pluck him from the throng ? 

Genius and art, ambition's boasted wings, 
Our boast but ill deserve. A feeble aid I 

Dedalian enginery ! If these alone 
Assist our flight, fame's flight is gloiy's fall. 
Heart-merit wanting, mount we ne'er so high, 
Our height is but the gibbet of our name. 
A celebrated wretch when 1 behold. 
When I behold a genius bright, and base, 
Of towering talents, and terrestrial aims ; 
Mftthinks I see, as thrown from her high sphere, 
The glorious fragments of a soul immortal, 
With rubbish mix'd and glittering in the dust. 
Struck at the splendid, melancholy sight. 

At once compassion soft, and envy, rise 

But wherefore envy ? Talents angel-bright, 
If wanting worth, are shining instruments 
In false ambition's hand, to finish faults 
Illustrious, and give infamy renown. 

Great ill is an achievement of great powers. 
Plain sense but rarely leads us far astray. 
Reason the means, afl'ections choose our end ; 
Means have no merit, if our end amiss. 
[f wrong our hearts, our heads are right in vain : 



THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 93 

Wliat is a Pelham's liead, to Pelham's heart ? 
Hearts are jirojirietors to all apji'aiise. 
Right ends, and means, make wisdom : worldly-wise 
Is but half-witted, at its highest praise. 

liet genins then despair to make thee {n^eai ; 
Nor flatter station ; what is station high ? 
'Tis a proud mendicant ; it boasts, and begs ; 
It begs an alms of homage from the throng, 
And oft the throng denies its charity. 
Monarchs, and ministers, are awful names ; 
Whoever wear them, challenge our devoir. 
Religion, public order, both exact 
External homage, and a supple knee, 
To beings pompously set \\p, to serve 
The meanest slave : all more is merit's due 
JHer sacred- and inviolable right ; 
Kor ever paid the monarch, but the man. 
Our hearts ne'er bow but to superior worth ; 
Nor ever fail of their allegiance there. 
Fools, indeed, drop the man in theik account, 
And vote the mantle into majesty. 
Let the small savage boast his silver fur ; 
His royal robe, unborrow'd, and unbought. 
His own, descending fairly from his sires. 
Shall man be proud to wear his livery, 
And souls in ermine scorn a soul without? 
Can place or lessen us, or aggrandize .' 
Pygmies are pygmies still, though perch'd on Alps; 
And pyramids are pyramids in vales. 
Each man makes his own stature, builds himself: 
Virtue alone outbuilds the pyramids : 
Her monuments shall last, when Egypt's fall. 

Of these sure truths dost thou demand the cause ? 
The cause is lodged in immortality. 
Hear, and assent. Thy bosom burns for power ; 
What station charms thee .' I'll install thee there : 
'Tis thine. And art thou greater than before .' 
Then thou before wast something less than man. 
Has thy new post betray'd thee into pride ? 
That treacherous pride betrays thy dignity ; 
That pride defames humanity, and calls 
The being mean, which staffs or strings can raise. 
That pride, like hooded hawks, in darkness soars, 
From blindness bold, and towering to the skies. 
'Tis born of ignorance, which knows not man : 
An angel's second j nor his second long. 
A Nebo quitting his imperial throne, 
And courting glory from the tinkling string. 
But faintly shadows an immortal soul. 
With empire's self, to pride, or rapture, fired. 
If nobler motives minister no cure, 
Ev'u vanity forbids thee to be vain.. 



94 THE COMPLAINT. [Night VI. 

High worth is elevated place : 'tis more ; 
It makes the post stand candidate for thee ; 
Makes more than monarchs, makes an honest man : 
Though no exchequer it commands, 'tis wealth ; 
And though it wears no ribband, 'tis renown ; 
Renown that would not quit thee though disgraced, 
Nor leave thee pendent on a master's smile. 
Other ambition nature interdicts ; 
Nature proclaims it most absurd in man, 
JJy pointing at his origin and end : » 
Milk, and a swathe, at first, liis whole demand ; 
His whole domain, at last, a turf, or stone ; 
To whom, between, a world may seem too small. 

Souls truly great dart forward on the wing 
Of just ambition, to the grand result. 
The curtain's fall. There, see the buskin'd chief 
L'^nshod behind this momentary scene ; 
Reduced to his own stature, low or high, 
As vice, or virtue, sinks him, or sublimes 3 
And laugh at thjs fantastic mummery, 
This antic prelude of grotesque events, 
Where dwarfs are often stilted, and betray 
A littleness of soul by worlds o'er-run, 
And nations laid in blood. Dread sacrifice 
To Christian pride : which had with horror shock'd 
The darkest Pagans, ofler'd to their gods. 

O thou must Christian enemy to peace ! 
Again in arms ? again provoking fate ? 
That prince, and that alone, is truly great. 
Who draws the sword reluctant, gladly sheathes j 
On empire builds what empire far outweighs, 
And makes his throne a scaffold to the skies. 

Why this so rare ? Because forgot of all. 
The day of death ; that venerable day, 
Which sits as judge ; that day, which shall (pronounce 
On all our days, absolve them, or condemn. 
Lorenzo, never shut thy thought against it 3 
Be levees ne'er so full, afford it room, 
And give it audience in the cabinet. 
That friend consulted, flatteries apart, 
Will tell the fair, if thou art great, or mean. 

To date on aught may leave us, or be left, 
Is that ambition ? Then let flames descend, 
Point to the centre their inverted spires, 
And learn humiliation from a soul, 
Which boasts her lineage from celestial fire. 
Yet these are they the world pronounces wise ; 
The world, which cancels nature's right and wrong, 
And casts new wisdom : ev'n the grave man lends 
His solemn face, to countenance the coin. 
Wisdom for parts, is madness for the whole. 



THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 

This stamps the paradox, and gives us leave 

To call the wisest weak, the richest poor, 

The most ambitious, unambitious, mean ; 

In triumph mean, and abject on a throne. 

Nothing can make it less than mad in man, 

To put forth all his ardour, all his art. 

And give his soul her full unbounded flight, 

But reaching Him, who gave her wings to fly. 

When blind ambition quite mistakes her road, 

And downward pores, for that which shines above, 

Substantial happiness, and true renown ; 

Then, like an idiot, gazing on the brook. 

We leap at stars, and fasten in the mud ; 

At glory grasp, and sink in infamy. 

Ambition ! powerful source of good and ill ! 
Thy strength in man, like length of wing in birds, 
When disengaged from earth, with greater ease 
And swifter flight transports us to the skies j 
By toys entangled, or in guilt bemired. 
It turns a curse ; it is our chain, and scourge. 
In this dark dungeon, where confined we lie, 
Close grated by the sordid bars of sense ; 
AH prospect of eternity shut out ; 
And, but for execution, ne'er set free. 

With error in ambition justly charged. 
Find we Lorenzo wiser in his wealth.' 
W^hat if thy rental 1 reform .' and draw 
An inventory new, to set thee right.' 
Where thy true treasure .' Gold says, " Xot in me :" 
And, " not in me," the diamond. Gold is poor ; 
India's insolvent ; seek it in thyself, 
Seek in thy naked self, and find it there ; 
In being so descended, form'd,endow'd ; 
Sky-born, sky-guided, sky-returning race ! 
Erect, immortal, rational, divine I 
In senses, which inherit earth, and heavens ; 
Enjoy the various riches nature yields ; 
Far nobler ! give the riches they enjoy ; 
Give taste to fruits ; and harmony to groves ; 
Their radiant beams to gold, and gold's bright sire ; 
Take in, at once, the landscape of the world. 
At a small inlet, which a grain might close. 
And half create the wondrous world they see. 
Our senses, as our reason, are divine. 
But for the magic organ's powerful charm. 
Earth were a rude, uncolour'd chaos still. 
Objects are but th' occasion ; otirstho exploit ; 
Ours is the cloth, the pencil, and the paint. 
Which nature's admirable picture draws ; 
And beautifies creation's ample dome. 
Like Milton's Eve, when gazing on the lake, 



96 THE COMPLAINT. [Night VI 

Man makes the matchless image man admires 

Say, then, shaJl man, his thoughts all st-ut abroad, 

Superior wonders in himselfforgot, 

His admiration waste on objects round, 

When Heaven makes him the soul of all he sees ? 

Absurd '. not rare I so great, so mean, is man. 

What wealth in senses such as these ! What wealtl 
In fancy, fired tg form a fairer Scene 
Than sense surveys ! in memory's firm record. 
Which, should it perish, could this world recall 
From the dark shadows of o'erwhelming years j 
In colours fresh, originally bright. 
Preserve its portrait, and report its fate ! 
What wealth in intellect, that sovereign power ! 
Wliich sense and fancy summons to the bar j 
Interrogates, approves, or reprehends ; 
And from the mass those underlings import, 
From their materials, sifted and refined. 
And in truth's balance accurately weigh'd, 
Forms art and science, government and law ; 
The solid basis, and the beauteous frame, 
The vitals and the grace of civil life ! 
And manners (sad exception!) set aside. 
Strikes out, with master hand, a copy fair 
Of His idea, whose indulgent thought 
Long, long ere chaos teem'd, plann'd human bliss. 

What wealth in souls tliat soar, dive, range around, 
Disdaining limit, or from place or time ; 
And hear at once, in thought extensive, hear 
Th' Almighty Fiat, and the trumpet's sound ! 
Bold, on creation's outside walk, and view 
What was, and is, and more than e'er shall be ; 
Commanding, with omnipotence of thought. 
Creations new in fancy's field to rise ! 
Souls that can grasp whatever th' Almighty made, 
And wander wild through things impossible ! 
What wealth, in faculties of endless growth, 
In quenchless passions violent to crave, 
In liberty to choose, in power to reach. 
And in duration (how thy riches rise !) 
Duration to perpetuate boundless bliss! 

Ask you, what power resides in feeble man 
That bliss to gain ? Is virtue's, then, unknown ? 
Virtue, our present peace, our future prize. 
Man's unprecarious, natural estate, 
Improveable at will, in virtue lies ; 
Its tenure sure ; its income is divine. 

High-built abundance, heap on heap! for what? 
To breed new wants, and beggar us the more ; 
Then, make a richer scramble for the throng ? 
Soon as this feeble pulse, which leaps so long 



THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 97 

Almost by miracle, is tired with play, 

Like rubbisli from displodin^' engines thrown, 

Our magazines of hoarded triflesriy; 

Fly diverse ; tiy to foreigners, to foes ; 

New masters court, and call the former fools, 

(How justly !) for dependence on their stay. 

Wide scatter, first, our plaj-things ; then, our dust. 

Dost court abundance for the sake of peace? 
Learn, and lament tliy self-defeated scheme: 
Biches enable to be richer still ; 
And, richer still, what mortal can resist ? 
Thus wealth (a cruel task-master !) enjoins 
New toil?', succeeding toils, and endless train ! 
And murders peace, which taught it first to shine. 
Tl)e poor are half as wretched as the ricli j 
Whose proud and painful privilege it is, 
At once, to bear a double load of woe ; 
To feel the stings of envy, and of want. 
Outrageous want ! both Indies cannot cure. 

A competence is vital to content. 
Much wealth is corpulence, if not disease ; 
Sick, or encuniber'd, is our happiness. 
A competence is all we can enjoy. 
O be content, where Heaven can give no more ! 
More, like a Hash of water from a lock, 
Quickfens our spirit's movement for an hour; 
But soon its force is spent, nor rise our joys 
Above our native temper's common stream. 
Hence disappointment lurks in every prize, 
As bees in (lowers ; and stings us with success. 

The rich man, who denies it, proudly feigns ; 
Nor knows the wise are privy to the lie. 
Much learning shows how little mortals know ; 
Much wealth, how little worldlings can enjoy: 
At best, it babies us with endless toys. 
And keeps us children till we drop to dust. 
As monkeys at a mirror stand amazed. 
They fail to find what they so plainly see ; 
Thus men, in shining riches, see the face 
Of happiness, nor know it is a shade ; 
But gaze, and touch, and peep, and peep, again, 
And wish, and wonder it is absent still. 

How few can rescue opulence from want ! 
Who lives to nature, rarely can be poor ; 
Who lives to fancy, never can be rich. 
Poor is the man in debt : the man of gold, 
In debt to fortune, trembles at her power. 
The man of reason smiles at her, and death. 
O what a patrimony this ! A being 
Of such inherent strength and majesty, 
Not worlds possess'd can raise it ; worlds destroy'd 
G 



98 THE COMPLAINT. [Night VI. 

Can't injtire ; which holds on its glorious course, 
When thine, O nature I ends ; toobless'd to mourn 
Creation's obsequies. What treasure this I 
The monarch is a beggar to the man. 

Immortal ! Ages past, yet nothing gone ! 
Morn witliout eve ! a race without a goal ! 
Unshorten'd by progression infinite ! 
Futurity for ever future ! life 
Beginning still where computation ends ! 
'Tis the description of a deity ! 
'Tis the description of the meanest slave : 
The meanest slave dares then Lorenzo scorn ? 
The meanest slave thy sovereign glory shares. 
Proud youth ! fastidious of the" lower world ! 
Man's lawful pride includes humility ; 
Stoops to the lowest ; is too great to find 
Inferiors ; all immortal ! brothers all ! 
Proprietors eternal of thy love. 

Immortal I What can strike the sense so strong, 
As this the soul ? It thunders to the thought ; 
Reason amazes ; gratitude o'er whelms ! 
No more we slumber on the brink of fate : 
Roused at the sound, th' exulting sound ascends, 
And breathes her native air ; an air that feeds 
Ambitions high, and fans ethereal fires : 
Q,uick kindles all that is divine within us ; 
Nor leaves one loitering thought beneath the stars. 

Has not Lorei^zo's bosom caught the flame ? 
Immortal ! Were but one immortal, how 
Would others envy ! how would thrones adore ! 
Because 'tis common, is the blessing lost ? 
How this ties up the bounteous hand of Heaven I 
O vain, vain, vain, all else ! Eternity ! 
A glorious, and a needful refuge, that. 
From vile imprisoment in abject views. 
'Tis immortality, 'tis that alone, 
Amid life's pains, abasements, emptiness, 
The soul can comfort, elevate, and fill. 
That only, and that amply, this performs ; 
Lifts us above life's pains, her joys above ; 
'I'heir terror those, and these their lustre lose : 
Eternity depending covers all ; 
Eternity depending all achieves ; 
Sets earth at distance ; casts lier into shades ; 
Blends her distinction ; abrogates her powers ; 
The low, the lofty, joyous, and severe. 
Fortune's dread frowns, and fascinating smiles, 
Alake one promiscuous and neglected heap, 
The man beneath ; if I may call him man. 
Whom immortality's full force inspires. 
Nothing terrestrial touches his high thought ; 



THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 99 

Suns shine unseen, and thunders roll unheard, 
By minds quite conscious of their high descent, 
'J'heir present province, and their future prize ; 
Divinely dartins; upward every wish. 
Warm on the wing, in glorious absence lost ! 

Doubt you thij! truth ? Why labours your belief? 
If earth's whole orb by some due distanced eye 
Were seen at once, hertciwering Alps would sink, 
And levell'd Atlas- leave an even sphere. • 
Thus earth, and all that earthly minds admire, 
Is swallow'd in eternity's vast round. 
To that stupendous view when souls awake, 
So largo of late, so mountainous to man. 
Time's toys subside ; and equal all below. 

Enthusiastic, this? Then all are weak, 
But rank enthusiasts. To this godlike height 
Some souls have soar'd ; or martyrs ne'er had bled ; 
And all may do, what has by man 'been done. 
Who, beaten by these sublunary storms. 
Boundless, interminable joys can weigh, 
TTnraptured, uncxalted, uninflamed ? 
AVhat slave unbless'd, who from to-morrow's dawn 
Expects an empire ? He forgets his chain. 
And, throned iu thought, his absent sceptre waves. 

And what a sceptre waits us ! what a throne ! 
Her own immense appointments to compute, 
Or comprehend her high prerogatives. 
In this her dark minority, how toils, 
How vainly pants, the human soul divine ! 
Too great the bounty seems for earthly joy : 
What heart hut trembles at so strangea bliss ? 

In spite of all the truths the muse has sung, 
Ne'er to be prized enough ! enough revolved ! 
Are there, who wrap the world so close about tliem, 
They see no further than the clouds ? and dance 
On heedless vanity's fantastic toe? 
Till, stumbling at a straw, in their career. 
Headlong they plunge, where end both dance and song? 
Are there, Lorenzo ? Is it possible ? 
Are there on earth (let me not rail them men) 
Who lodge a soul immortal in their breasts 3 
Unconscious as the mountain of its ore ; 
Or rock of its inestimable gem ? 
When rocks shall melt, and mountains vanish, these 
Shall know their treasure, then, no more. 

Are there (still more amazing !) who resist 
The rising thought? who smother, in its birth, 
The glorious trutii ? who struggle to be brutes ? 
Who through this bosom-barrier burst their way. 
And, with reversed ambition, strive to sink ? 
Who labour downwards through th' opposing powere 



100 THE COMPLAINT. [Night VT. 

Of instinct, reason, and the world against them, 

To dismal hopes, and shelter in the shock 

Of endless night? night darker than the grave's! 

Who fight the proofs of immortality ? 

With horrid zeal, and execrable arts, 

Work all their engines, level their black fires, 

To blot from man this attribute divine 

(Than vital blood far dearer to the wise,) 

Blasphemers, and rank atheists, to themselves ? 

To contradict them, see all nature rise ! 
What object, what event, the moon beneath, 
But argues, or endears, an after-scene ? 
To reason proves, or weds it to desire ? 
All things proclaim it needful ; some advance 
One precious step beyond, and prove it sure. 
A thousand arguments swarm round my i>en, 
From heaven, and earth, and man. Indulge a few, 
By nature, as her common hahit, worn j 
So pressing Providence a truth to teach, 
Which truth untaught, all other truths were vain. 

THOU ! whose all-providential eye surveys. 
Whose hand directs, wtiose Spirit fills and wariDH 
Creation, and holds empire far beyond I 
Eternity's Inhabitant august ! 
Of two eternities amazing Lord ! 
One past, ere man's, or angel's, had begun 3 
Aid I while I rescue from the foe's assault 
Thy glorious immortality in man : 
A theme for ever, and for all, of weight, 
Of moment infinite I but relish'd most 
By those who love thee most, who most adore. 

Nature, thy daughter, ever-changing birth 
Of thee, the great Immutable, to man 
Speaks wisdom ; is his oracle supreme ; 
And he who most consults her, is most wise. 
LoRKNzo, to this heavenly Delplios haste ; 
And come back all immortal ; all-divine : 
Look nature through, 'tis revolution all ; 
All change ; no death. Day follows night ; and night 
The dying day ; stars rise, and set, and rise ; 
Earth takes th' example. See, the summer gay, 
With her green chaplet, and ambrosial flowers, 
Droops into pallid autumn : winter grey, 
Horrid with frost and turbulent with storm, 
Blows autumn, and his golden fruits, away : 
Then melts into the spring : soft spring, with breath 
Favonian, from warm chambers of the south, 
Recalls the first. All, to re-flourish, fades ; 
As in a wheel, all sinks, to re-ascend. 
Emblems of man. who passes, not expires. 

With this minute distinction, emblems Just, 



THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 101 

Nature revolves, but man advances ; both 

Eternal ; that a circle, this a line. 

That gravitates, this soars. Th' aspiring soul, 

Ardent, and tremulous, like flame, ascends ; 

Zeal, and humility, her wings to heaven. 

The world of matter, with its various forms, 

All dies into new life. Life born from death 

Rolls the vast mass, and shall forever roll. 

No single atom, once in being, lost, 

With change of counsel charges the Most High. 

What hence infers Lorenzo .' Can it be ? 
Matter immortal? and shall spirit die ? 
Above the nobler, shall less noble rise? 
Shall man alone, for whom all else revives, 
No resurrection know? Shall man alone, 
Imperial man ! be sown in barren ground, 
Less privileged than. grain, on which he feeds? 
Is man, in whom alone is power to prize 
The bliss of being, or with previous pain 
Deplore its period, by the spleen of fate. 
Severely doom'd death's single unredeem'd ? 

If nature's revolution speaks aloud, 
In her gradation hear her louder still. 
Look nature throueh, 'tis neat gradation all. 
By what minute degrees her scale ascends ! 
Each middle nature join'd at each extreme, 
To that above it join'd, to that beneath. 
Parts, into parts reciprocally shot, 
Abhor divcrce : what love of union reigns ! 
Here dormant matter waits a call to life ; 
Half-life, half-death, join there: here, life and senset 
There, sense from reason steals a glimmering ray ; 
Reason shines out in man. But how preserved 
The chain unbroken upward, to the realms 
Of incorporeal life? those realms of bliss. 
Where death has no dominion ? Grant a make 
Half-mortal, half-immortal ; earthy, part. 
And part ethereal ; grant the soul of man 
Eternal ; or in man the series ends. 
Wide yawns the gap ; connexion is no more : 
Check'd reason halts ; her next step wants support ; 
Striving to climb, she tumbles from her scheme ; 
A scheme, analogy pronounced so truej 
Analogy, man's surest guide below. 

Thus far, all nature calls on thy belief. 
And will Lorenzo, careless of the call, 
False attestation on all nature charge. 
Rather than violate his league with death ? 
Renounce his reason, rather than renounce 
The dust beloved, and run the risk of heaven ? 
O what indignity to deathless souls ! 



102 THE COxMPLAINT. [Xight VI. 

What treason to the majesty of man ! 

Of man immortal ! Hear the lofty style : 

■" Tf so decreed, th' Almighty will be done. 

Let earth dissolve, yon ponderous orbs descend, 

And grind us into dust. The soul is safe ; 

The man emerges ; mounts above the wreck, 

As towering flame from nature's funeral pyre ; 

O'er devastation, as a gainer, smiles ; 

His charter, his inviolable rights, 

Well-pleased to learn from thunder's impotence. 

Death's pointless darts, and hell's defeated storms." 

But these chimeras touch not thee Lorenzo I 
The glories of the world thy sevenfold shield. 
Other ambition than of crowns in air, 
And superlunary felicities, 
Thy bosom warm. I'll cool it, if I can ; 
And turn those glories that enchant, against thee. 
What y\es thee to this life, proclaims the next. 
If wise, the cause that wounds thee is thy cure. 

Come, my ambitious ! let us tnount together 
(To uiount, Lorenzo never can refuse ;) 
And from the clouds, where pride delights to dwell, 
Look down on each. — What seest thou? Wondrous 
Terrestrial wonders, that eclipse the skies. [things 1 
What lengths of labour'd lands ! what<loaded seas ! 
Loaded by man, for pleasure, wealth, or war ! 
Seas, winds, and planets, into service brought. 
His art acknowledge, and promote his ends. 
Nor can th' eternal rocks his will withstand. 
W^hat levell'd mountains ! and what lifted vales ! 
O'er vales and mountains sumptuous cities swell. 
And gild our landscape with their glittering spires. 
Some 'mid the wondering waves majestic rise ; 
And Neptune holds a mirror to their charms. 
Far greater still ! (what cannot mortal might ?) 
See, wide dominions ravish'd from the deep '. 
The narrow'd deep with indignation foams. 
Or southward turn ; to delicate and grand, 
The finer arts there ripen in the sun. 
How the tall temples, as to meet their gods, 
Ascend the skies ! the proud triumphal arch 
Shows us half heaven beneath its ample bend. 
High through mid air, here, streams are taught to flow; 
Whole rivers, there, laid by in basons, sleep. 
Here, plains turn oceans ; there, vast oceans join. 
Through kingdoms channel'd deep from shore tushore^ 
And ciianged creation takes its face from man. 
Beats thy brave breast for formidable scenes. 
Where fame and empire wait upon the sword ? 
See fields in blood ; hear naval thunders rise; 
Britanma's voice : thatawes the world to peace. 



THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 103 

How yon enormous mole projecting breaks 
The mid-sea furious waves ! Their roar amidst, 
Outspeaks the Deity, and says, " O main ! 
Thus far, nor further : new restraints obey." 
Earth's disembowel'd ! measured are the skies L 
Stars are detected in tlieir deep recess ! 
Creation widens ! vanquish'd nature yields ! 
Her secrets are extorted I art prevails ! 
What monument of genius, spirit, power .' 

And now, Lorenzo ! raptured at this scene, 
Whose glories render heaven superfluous ! say, 
Whose footsteps these .'—Immortals have been here 
Could less than souls immortal this have done ? 
Earth's cover'd o'er with proofs of souls immortal, 
And proofs of immortality forgot. 

To flatter thy grand foible, I confess. 
These are ambition's works : and these are great : 
But this, the least immortal souls can do ! 
Transcend them all— But what can these transcend ? 
Dost ask me, what? — One sigii for the distress'd. 
What then for infidels ? A df^eper sigh. 
'Tis moral grandeur makes the mighty man : 
How little they, who tliink aught great below ! 
All our ambitions death defeats, but one ; 
And that it crowns. — Here cease we : but, ere long, 
More powerful proof shall take the field against thee, 
Stronger than death, and smiling at the tomb. 



JVIGHT THE SEVENTH. 



BEING THE SECOND PART . 

OF 

THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 



Containing the Nature, Proof and Importance op 
Immortalitt. 



PREFACE. 



As we are at war with the power, it were well if we 
were at war with the manners, of France. A land of 
levity, is a land of guilt. A serious mind is the native 
soil of "every virtue, and the single character that does 
true honourto mankind. The soul's immortality has 
been the favourite theme with the serious of all ages. 
Nor is it strange : it is a subject by far the most inter- 
esting and important that can enter the mind of man. 
Of highest moment this subject always was, and always 
will be. Yet this its highest moment seems to admit. 
of increase at this day ; a sort of occasional importance 
is superadded to the natural weight of it, if that opin- 
ion which is advanced in the preface to the preceding 
Night be just. It is there supposed, that all our infidels, 
whatever scheme for argument's sake, and to keep 
themselves in countenance, they patronize, are betray- 
ed into their deplorable error, by some doubts of their 
immortality at the bottom. And the more I consider 
this point, the more I am persuaded of the truth of that 
opinion. Though the distrust of a futurity is a strange 
error; yet it is an error into which bad men may natu- 
rally be distressed. For it is impossible to bid defiance 
to final ruin, without some refuge in imagination, some 
presumption of escape. And what presumption ia 



FREFACE. JOS 

mere? There are but two in nature : but two within 
the compass of human tliought. And these are,— That 
either Goo will not, or cannot punish. Considering the 
divine attributes, the first is too gross to be digested by 
our strongest wishes. And since omnipotence is as 
much a divine attribute as holiness, tliat God cannot 
punish, is as absurd a supposition as the former. God 
certainly can punish as long as wicked men exist. In 
non-existence, therefore, is their only refuge ; and con- 
eequenlly, non-existence is their strongest wish. And 
strong wishes have a strange influence on our opinions ; 
they bias the judgment in a manner almost incredible. 
And since on this member of their alternative, there 
are some very small appearances in tlieir favour, and 
none at all on the other ; they catch at this reed, they 
lay hold on this chimaera, to save themselves from the 
shock and horror of an immediate and absolute despair. 

On reviewing my subject, by the light which this ar- 
gument, and others of like tendency, threw upon it, I 
was more inclined than ever to pursue it, as it appear- 
ed to me to strike directly at the main root of all our 
infidelity. In the following pages it is, accordingly, 
pursued at large ; and some arguments for immortality, 
new at least to me, are ventured on in them. There 
also the writer lias made an attempt to set the gross ab- 
surdities and horrors of annihilation in a fuller and 
mpre affecting view, than is (T think) to be met with 
elsewhere. 

The gentlemen for whose sake this attempt wag 
chiefly made, profess great admiration for the wisdom 
of heathen antiquity. What pity 'tis they are not sin- 
cere 1 If they were sincere, how would it mortify them 
to consider, with what contempt and abhorrence their 
notions would have been received by those whom they 
so much admire ? What degree of contempt and abhor- 
rence would fall to their share, may be conjectured by 
the following matter of fact Jn my opinion) extremely 
memorable. Of all their heathen worthies, Socrates 
('tis well known) was the most guarded, dispassionate, 
and composed: yet this great master of temper was an 
gry ; and angry at his last hour ; and angry with his 
friend, and angry for what deserved acknowlediiment ; 
angry for a right and tender instance of true friendship 
towards him. Is not this surprising.' What could be 
the cause.' The cause was for his honour : it was a 
truly noble, tliough perhaps, a too punctilious regard 
for immortality ; for his friend asking him, with such 
an atiectionate concern as became a friend, " Where 
he should deposit his remains .' it was resented by 
Socrates, as implying a dishonourable supposition, that 



105 PREFACE. [Night VII. 

he could be so mean as to have'a rej?ard for any thing, 
even in himself, that was not immortal. 

This fact, well considered, would make our infidels 
withdraw their admiration from Socrates ; or makie 
them endeavour, by their imitation of this illustrious 
example to share his glory ; and, consequently, it 
would incline them to peruse the following pages 
with candour and impartiality: which is all I desire ; 
and that, for their sakes : for I am persuaded, that an 
unprejudiced infidel must necessarily receive some ad- 
vantaireous impressions from them. 

Julyltk, 1744. 



CONTENTS 

OF THE SEVENTH NIGHT. 

Is the Sixth Nisht, arfriiments were drawn from Na- 
ture in proof of immortality ; here, others are drawn 
from Man : from his Discontent — from his Passions 
and Powers — from the gradual growth of Reason — 
frotn his fear of Deatli — from the nature of Hope, and 
of Virtue — and Knowledge and love, as being the 
most essential properties of the soul — from the Order 
of Creation — from the nature of Ambition, Avarice, 
Pleasure. A digression on the grandeur of the Pas- 
sions. Immortality alone can render our present 
state intelligible. An objection from the Stoic's dis- 
belief of immortality answered. Endless questions 
unresolvable, but on supposition of our Immortality. 
The natural, most melancholy, and pathetic com- 
plaint of a worthy man, under the persuasion of no 
Futurity. The ^ross absurdities and horrors of An- 
nihilation urged home on Lorenzo. The soul's vast 
Importance — from whence it arises. The difficulty 
of being an infidel — the Infamy — the Cause, and the 
character, of an infidel state. What true free-think- 
ing is. The necessary punishment of the false. 
Man's ruin is from himself. An infidel^accuses him- 
self of Guilt and Hypocrisy ; and that of the worst 
sort. His obligation to Christians — What danger he 
incurs by Virtue — Vice recommended to him — Hia 
high pretences to Virtue and Benevolence exploded. 
The conclusion, on the nature of Faith, Reason; and 
Hope ; with an apology for this attempt. 



108 



THE INFIDEL. RECLAIMED. 



PART THE SECOND. 



Heate!t gives the needful, but neglected, call. 

What day, what hour, hut knocks at human hearts, 

To wake the soul to sense of future scenes ? . 

Deaths stand, like Mercuries, in every way, 

And kindly point us to our journey's end. 

Pope, who couldst make immortals ! art thou dead? 

I give thee joy : nor will [ take my leave ; 

So soon to follow. Man but dives in death ; 

Dives from the sun, in fairer day to rise ; 

The grave, his subterranean road to bliss. 

Yes, infinite indulgence plann'd it so: 

Through various parts our glorious story runs ; 

Time gives the preface, endless age unrolls 

The volume (ne'er unroll'd I) of human fate. 

This, earth and skies* already have proclaira'd. 
The world's a prophecy of worlds to come ; 
And who, what God foretells (who speaks in things, 
Still louder than in words) shall dare deny? 
Jf nature's arguments appear too weak, 
Turn a new leaf, and stronger read in man. 
If man sleeps on, untaught by what he sees. 
Can he prove infidel to what he feels ? 
He, whose blind thought futurity denies, 
Unconscious bears, Bellerophon ! like thee, 
His own indictment ; he condemns himself: 
Who reads his bosom, reads immortal life ; 
Or, nature there, imposing on her sons. 
Has written fables ; man was made a lie. 

Why discontent for ever harbour'd there? 
Incurable consumption of our peace ! 
Resolve me, why, the cottager, and king, 
He whom sea-sever'd realms obey, and he 
Who seals his whole dominion from the waste, 
Repelling winter blasts with mud and straw. 
Disquieted alike, draw sigh for sigh, 
In fate so distant, in complaint so near ? 

* Night the Sixth. 



THE lATfDEL RECLAIMED, f 109 

Is it, that things, terrestrial can't content? 
Deep in rich pasture will thy fiocks complain ? 
Not so ; but to their master is denied 
To share their sweet serene. Man, ill at ease. 
In this, not his own place, this foreign field, 
Where nature fodders him with other food. 
Than was ordain'd his cravings to sutfice, 
Poor in abundance, faniish'd at a feast. 
Sighs on for something more, when mostenjoy'd. 

Is Heaven then kinder to thy fiocks than thee ? 
Not so ; thy pasture richer, but remote ; 
In part, remote ; for that remoter part 
Man bleats from instinct, though, perhaps, debauch'd 
By sense, his reason sleeps, nor dreams the cause. 
The cause how obvious, when his reason wakes ! 
His grief is but his grandeur in disguise ; 
And discontent is immortality. 

Shall sons of aether, shall the blood of heaven. 
Set up their hopes on earth, and stable here, 
With brutal acquiescence in the mire .■* 
LoRExzo, no ! they shall be nobly pain'd ; 
The glorious foreigners, distress'd, shall sigh 
On thrones ; and thou congratulate the sigh. 
Man's misery declares him born for bliss; 
His anxious heart asserts the truth I sing, 
And gives the sceptic in his head the lie. 

Our heads, our hearts, our passions, and our powers, 
Speak the same language ; call us to the skies : 
Unripen'd these in this inclement clinje, 
Scarce rise above conjecture, and mistake ; 
And for thi? land of trifles those too strong 
Tumultuous) rise, and tempest human life : 
What prize on earth can pay us for the storm .' 
Meet objects for our passions Heaven ordain'd, 
Objects that challenge all their fire, and leave 
No fault, but in defect. Bless'd Heaven ! avert 
A bounded ardour for unbounded bliss! 
O for a bliss unbounded ! Far beneath 
A soul immortal, is a mortal joy. 
Nor are our powers to perish immature ; 
But, after feeble effort here, beneath 
A brighter sun, and in a nobler soil. 
Transplanted from this sublunary bed. 
Shall flourish fair, and put forth all their bloom. 

Reason progressive, instinct is complete ; 
Swift instinct leaps ; slow reason feebly climbs 
Brutes soon their zenith reach ; their little all 
Flows in at once ; in ages they no more 
Could know, or do, or covet, or enjoy. 
Were man to live coeval with the sun, 
The patriarch-pupil would be learning still ; 



110 THE COMPLAINT. [Xiqht VII. 

Yet, dying leave his lesson half-unlearn'd. 

Men perish in advance, as if the sun 

Should set ere noon, in eastern oceans drown'd ; 

If fit, with dim illustrious, to compare, 

The sun's meridian with the soul of man. 

To man, why, stepdame nature ! so severe ? 

Why thrown aside thy masterpiece half-wrought, 

While meaner efforts thy last hand enjoy ? 

Or, if abortively poor man must die. 

Nor reach what reach he might, why die in dread? 

Why cursed with foresight? wise to misery? 

Why of his proud prerogative the prey ? 

.Why less pre-eminent in rank, than pain? 

His immortality alone can tell ; 

Full ample fund to balance all amiss. 

And turn the scale in favour of the just I 
His immortality alone can solve 

The darkest of enigmas, human hope ; 

Of all the darkest, if at detUh we die. 

Hope, eager hope, th' assassin of our joy. 

All present blessings treading under foot, 

Is scarce a milder tyrant than despair. 

With no past toils content, still planning new, 

Hope turns us o'er to death alone for ease. 

Possession, why more tasteless than pursuit? 

Why is a wish far dearer than a crown ? 

That wish accomplish'd, why the grave of bliss ? 

Because, in the great future buried deep. 

Beyond our plans of empire and renown. 

Lies all that man with ardour should pursue; 
And He who made him, bent him to the right. 
Man's heart th' Almcghty to the future sets, 
By secret and inviolable springs ; 
And makes his hope his sublunary joy. 
Man's heart eats all things, and is hungry still : 
" More, more !" the glutton cries : for something new 
So rages appetite, if man can't mount. 
He will descend. He starves on the possess'd. 
Hence, the world's master, from ambition's spire, 
In Caprea plunged ; and dived beneath the brute. 
In that rank sty why wallow'd empire's son 
Supreme ? Because he could no higher fly j 
His riot was ambition in despair. 

Old Rome consulted birds: Lorenzo ! thou, 
With more success, the flight of hope survey ; 
Of restless hope, for ever on the wing: 
High-perch'd o'er every thought that falcon sits, 
To fly at all that rises in her sight ; 
And, never stooping, but to mount again. 
Next moment, she betrays her aim's mistake, 
And owns her quarry lodged beyond the grave. 



THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. Ill 

There should it fail us (it must fail us there, 
If being fails) more moueiftil riddles rise 
And virtue vies with hope in mystery. 
Why virtue ? Where its praise, its being fled ? 
Virtue is true self-interest pursued : 
What true self-interest of qufte-mortal man ? 
To close with all that makes him happy here. 
If vice as (sometimes) is our friend on earth, 
Then vice is virtue ; 'tis our sovereign good. 
In self applause is virtue's golden prize ] 
No self-applause attends it, on thy scheme. 
Whence self-applause ? From conscience of the right. 
And what is right, but means of happiness .' 
No means of happiness when virtue yields ; 
That basis falling, falls the building too. 
And lays in ruin every virtuous joy. 

The rigid guardian of a blameless heart, 
So long revered, so long reputed wise. 
Is weak ; with rank knight-errantries o'er-run. 
Why beats thy bosom with illustrious dreams 
Of self-exposure, laudable, and great .' 
Of gallant enterprise, and glorious death .' 
Die for thy country ! Thou romantic fool ! 
Seize, seize the plank thyself, and let her sink : 
Thy country ! what to thee .'—The Godhead, what.' 
(I speak with awe ;) though He should bid thee bleed 
If, with thy blood, thy final hope is spilt. 
Nor can Omnipotence reward the blow, 
Be deaf J preserve thy being ; disobey. 

Nor is it disobedience. Know, Lorexzo, 
Whate'er th' Almighty's subsequent command, 
His first command is this : — " Man, love thyself." 
In this alone, free agents are not free. 
Existence is the basis, bliss the prize : 
If virtue cost existence, 'tis a crime j 
Bold violation of our law supreme, 
Black suicide ; though nations, which consult 
Their gain at thy expense, resound applause. 

Since virtue's recompense is doubtful here. 
If man dies wholly, well may we demand, 
Why is man suffer'd to be good in vain ? 
Why to be good in vain, isVian enjoin 'd *^ 
Why to be good in vain, is man betrayed ? 
Betray 'd by traitors lodged in his own breast. 
By sweet complacencies from virtue felt .' 
Why whispers nature lies on virtue's part ? 
Or if blind instinct (vvhicli assumes the name 
Of sacred conscience) plays the fool in man, 
Why reason made accomplice in the cheat ? / 

Why are the wisest loudest in lier praise.' - 
Can man by reason's beam be led astray ? 



lis THE COMPLAINT. [Night VII. 

Or, at his periJ, imitate his God .' 

Since virtue sometimes ruins us on earth, 

Or both are true, or man survives the grave. 

Or man survives the grave, or owii, Lorenzo, 
Thy boast supreme, a wild absurdity. 
Dauntless thy spirit ; cowards are thy scorn : 
Grant man immortal, and thy scorn is just. 
The man immortal rationally brave, 
Dares rush on death— because he cannot die. 
But if man loses all when life is lost, 
He lives a coward, or a fool expires, 
A daring infidel (and such there are, 
From pride, example, lucre, rage, revenge, 
Or pure heroical detect of thought,) 
Of all earth's madmen, most deserves a chain. 

When to the grave we follow the renown 
For valour, virtue, science, all we love. 
And ail we praise ; for worth, whose noon-tide beam, 
Enabling us to think in higher style. 
Mends our ideas of ethereal powers ; 
Dream we, that lustre of the moral world 
Goes out in stench, and rottenness the close .' 
Why was he wise to know, and warm to praise, 
And strenuous to transcribe, in human life. 
The Mind Almighty? Could it be, that fate. 
Just when the lineaments began to shine, 
And dawn the Deity, should snatch the draught, 
With night eternal blot it out, and give 
The skies alarm, lest angels too might die ? 

If human souls, why not angelic too 
Extinguish'd ? and a solitary God, 
O'er ghastly ruin, frowning from his throne? 
Shall we this moment gaze on God in man f 
The next, lose man for ever in the dust .•" 
From dust we disengage, or man mistakes ; 
And there where least his judgment fears a flaw. 
Wisdom and worth, how boldly he commends I 
Wisdom and worth are sacred names ; revered 
Where not embraced ; applauded ; deified ! 
Why not compassion'd too? If spirits die, 
Both are calamities, inflicted both, 
To make us both more wretched. Wisdom's eye, 
Acute, for what ? To spy more miseries ; 
And worth, so recompensed, new points their slings. 
Or man surmounts the grave, or gain is loss, 
And worth exalted humbles us the more. 
Thou wilt not patronize a scheme that makes 
Weakness, and vice, the refuge of mankind." 

" Has virtue, then, no joys ?"—Ves, joys dear bought, 
Talk ne'er so long, in this imperfect state, 
Virtue and vice are at eternal war. 



THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 113 

Virtue's a combat ; and vvlio figlits for nought ? 

Or for precarious, or for small reward ? 

Who virtue's self-reward so loud resound, 

Would take degrees angelic here below, 

And virtue, while they compliment, betray, 

By feeble motives, and unfaithful guards. 

The crown th' unfading crown, her soul inspires : 

'Tis that, and that alone, can countervail 

The body's treacheries and the world's assaults : 

On earth's poor pay our famish'd virtue dies. 

Truth incontestable ! in spite of all 

A Bavle has preach'd, or a Voltaire believed. 

In man the more we dive, the more we see 
Heaven's signet stamping an immortal make. 
Drive to the bottom of his soul, the base 
Sustaing all ; what find we ? Knowledge, love : 
As light, and heat, essential to the sun. 
These to the soul. And why, if souls expire .■' 
How little lovely here ? How little known ? 
Small knowledge we dig up with endless toil ; 
And love unfeign'd may purchase perfect hate. 
Why starved, on earth, our angel appetites ; 
While brutal are indulged their fulsome fill ? 
Were then capacities divine conferr'd. 
As a mock diadem, in savage sport. 
Rank insult of our pompous poverty, 
Which reaps but pain, from seeming claims so fair f 
In future age lies no redress ? and shuts 
Eternity the door in our complaint? 
If so, for what strange ends were mortals made? 
The worst to wallow, and the best to weep ; 
The man who merits most, must most complain : 
Can we conceive a disregard in Heaven, 
What the worst perpetrate, or best endure ? 

This cannot be. To love, and know, in man 
Is boundless appetite, and boundless power; 
And these demonstrate boundless objects too. 
Objects, powers, appetites. Heaven suits in all ; 
Nor, nature through, e'er violates this sweet, 
Eternal concord, on herturfeful string. 
Is man the sole exception from her laws ? 
Eternity struck off from human hope 
(I speak with truth, but veneration too,) 
Man is a monster, the reproach of Heaven, 
A stain, a dark impenetrable cloud 
On nature's beauteous aspect J and deforms, 
(Amazing blot !) deforms her with her lord. 
If such is man's alotment, what is Heaven? 
Grown the soul immortal, or blaspheme. 

Or own the soul immortal, or invert 
AH ordf!r. Go, mock majesty ! go, man ! 



114 THE COMPLAINT. [Xight VH 

And how to thy superiors of the sttall ; 

Throujrh every scene of sense superior far: 

Tiiey graze tlie turf iiiitill'd : they drink the stream 

Uiibrew'd, and ever fall, and uuiinbitter'd 

With doubts, fears, fruitless hopes, regrets, despairs, 

Mankind's peculiar ! reason's precious dower! 

2io foreign clime they ransack for their robes ; 

Nor brothers cite to the litigious bar ; 

Their good is good entire, linmix'd, unmarr'd ; 

They rind a paradise in every field, 

On boughs forbidden where no curses hang : 

Their ill, no more than strikes the sense ; \instretch'd, 

By previous dread, or murmur in the rear : 

VVhea the worst comes, it comes unfear'd ; one stroke 

Begins and ends their woe : they die but once j 

Bless'd, incommunicable privilege! for which 

Proud man, who rules the globe, and reads the stars, 

Philosopiier, or hero, sighs in vain. 

Account for this prerogative in brutes. 
No day, no glimpse of day, to solve the knot, 
But what beams on it iVum eternity. 
O sole, and sweet solution ! TJiat unites 
The diilicult, and softens the severe ; 
The cloud on nature's beauteous face dispels ; 
Restores bright order ; casts the brute beneath ; 
And reinthrones us in supremacy 
Of joy, even here. Admit immortal life, 
And virtue is knight-errantry no more ; 
Each virtue brings in hand a golden dower, 
Far richer in reversion -. hope exults ; 
And though much bitter in our cup is thrown, 
Predominates, and gives the taste of heaven. 
O wherefore is the Deity so kind? 
Astonishing beyond astonishment ! 
Heaven our reward — for heaven enjoy'd below. 

Still unsubdued thy stubborn heart! for there 
The traitor lurks who doubts the truth I sing. . 
Keason.is guiltless ; will alone rebels. 
What, in that stubborn heart, if I should find 
New, unexpected witnesses against thee ? 
Ambition, pleasure, and the love of gain ! 
Canst thou suspect that these, which make the soul 
The slave of earth, should own her heir of heaven ? 
Canst thou suspect what makes us disbelieve 
Our immortality, should prove it sure.' 

First, then, ambition summon to the bar. 
Ambition's shame, extravagance, disgust, 
And unextinguishable nature, speak. 
Each much deposes ; hear them in their turn. 

Thy soul, liow passionately fond of fame I 
How anxious, that fond passion to conceal ! 



THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 115 

We blush, detected in designs on praise, 
Though for best deeds, and from the best of men. 
And why ? Cecause immortal. Art divine 
Has made the body tutor^o the soul ; 
Heaven kindly gives our blood a moral flow, 
Bids it ascend the glowing cheek, and there 
Upbraid that little heart's inglorious aim, 
Which stoops to court a character from ruan ; 
While o'er us; in tremendous judgment, sit 
Far more than man, with endless praise and blame. 

Ambition's boundless appetite outspeaks » 
The verdict of its sliame. When sou Is take fire 
At high presumptions of their own desert, 
One age is poor applause ; the mighty shout, 
The thunder by the living few begun, 
Late time must echo ; worlds unborn, resound, 
We wish our names eternally to live : 
Wild dream: which ne'er had haunted human thought, 
Had not our natures been eternal too. 
Instinct points out an interest in hereafter ; 
But our blind reason sees not where it lies ; 
Or, seeing, gives the substance for the shade. 

Fame is the shade of immortality. 
And in itself a shadow. Soon as caught, 
Ccntemn'd ; it shrinks to nothing in the grasp^ 
Consijt th' ambitious, 'tis ambition's cure. 
" And is this all ?" cried Ccsar at his height. 
Disgusted. This third proof ambition brings 
'Of iqimortality. The first in fame, 
Observe him near, your envy will abate : 
Shamed at the disproportion vast, between 
The passion and the purchase, he will sigh 
At such success, and blush at his renown. 
And why ? Because far richer prize invites 
His heart ; far more illustrious glory calls: 
It calls in whispers, yet the deafest hear. 

And can ambition a fourth proof supply ? 
It can, and strongcrthan tiie former three ; 
Yet quite o'erlook'd by some repute^ wise. 
Though disappointments in ambition pain, 
And though success disgusts ; yet still, Lorenzo, 
In vain we strive to pluck it from our hearts j 
By nature planted for the noblest ends. 
Absurd the famed advice to Pvrrhus given, 
More praise, than ponder'd : specious, but unsound: 
Sooner than hero's sword the world had quell'd, 
Than reason, his ambition. Man must soar : 
An obstinate activity within. 
An insuppressive spring will toss him up 
In spite of fortune's load. Xot kings alone, 
Eacl> Tillager bas his aiubiUon too j 



116 THE COMPLAINT. . [Night VII. 

No sultan prouder than his fetter'd slave : 
Slaves build their little Babj Ions of straw, 
Echo the proud Assyrian, in their hearts, 
And cry — " Behold the wonders of iny might !" 
And why ? Because immortal as their lord. 
And souls immortal must forever heave 
At something great ; the glitter, or the gold ; 
The praise of mortals, or Uie praise of Heaven. 

Nor absolutely vain is human praise, 
When human is supported by divine. 
I'll introduce Lorenzo to himself. 
Pleasure and pride (bad masters !) share our hearts. 
As love of pleasure is ordain'd to guard 
And feed our bodies, and extend our race ; 
The love of praise is planted to protect, 
And propagate the glories of the mind. 
What is it, but the love of praise, inspires. 
Matures, refines, embellishes, esalts. 
Earth's happiness .' From that, the delicate. 
The grand, the marvelous, of civil life. • 
Want and convenience, under-workers, lay 
The basis, on which love of glory builds. 
Nor is thy life, O virtue ! less in debt 
To praise, thy secret stimulating friend. 
Were men not proud, what merit should we miss;- 
Pride made the virtues of the Pagan world. 
Praise is the salt that seasons right to man, 
\nd whets his appetite for moral good. 
Thirst of applause is virtue's second guard, * 

leason, her first ! but reason wants an aid : 
)ur private reason is a flatterer ; 
"hirst of applause calls public judgment in, 
'o poise our own, to keep an even scale, 
vnd give endanger'd virtue fairer play. 
Here a fifth proof arises, stronger still : 
Thy this so nice construction of our hearts? 
hese delicate moralities of sense ; 
lis constitutional reserve of aid 
1) succour virtue, when our reason fails ; 
virtue, kept alive by care and toil, 
id oft the mark of injuries on earth, 
hen labour'd to maturity (its bill 
'disciplines, and pains, unpaid) must die ? 
hy freighted rich, to dash against a rock? 
i;re man to perish when most fit to live, 
low misspent were all these stratagems, 
skill divine inwoven in our frame! 
)ere are Heaven's holiness and mercy fled ? 
ighs Heaven, at once, at virtue, and at man ? 
lot, why that discouraged, this destroy'd i 
hus far ambition. WJiat says avarice ? 



THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 117 

This her chief maxim, which has long been thine : 

•' The wise and wealthy are the same."— I grant it. 

To store up treasure with incessant toil, 

Tliis is man's province, this his highest praise. 

To this great end keen instinct stings him on, 

To guide that instinct, reason ! is thy charge ; 

T'is thine to tell us where true treasure lies : 

But, reason failing to discharge her trust, 

Or to the deaf discliarging it in vain, 

A blunder follows ; and blind industry, 

Gall'd by the spur, but stranger to the conrse 

(The course, where stakes of more than gold are won,) 

O'erloading, with the cares of distant age j 

The jaded spirits of the present hour, 

Provides for an eternity below. 

" Thou Shalt not covet," is a wise command j 
But bounded to the wealth the sun surveys ; 
Look further, the command stands quite reversed, 
And avarice is a virtue most divine. 
Is faith a refuge for our happiness ? 
Most sure : and is it not for reason too ? 
Nothing this world unriddles, but the next. 
Whence unextinguishable thirst of gain? 
From unextinguishable life in man. 
Man, if not meant, by worth to reach the skies, 
Had wanted wing to fly so far in guilt. 
Sour grapes, I grant, ambition, avarice; 
Yet still their root is immortality : 
These its wild growths, so bitter, and so base, 
(Pain and reproach !) religion can reclaim, 
Refine, exalt, throw down their poisonous lee, 
And make them sparkle in the bowl of bliss. 

See, the third witness laughs at bliss remote, 
And falsely promises an Eden here: 
Truth she shall speak for once, though prone to lie> 
A common cheat and Pleasure is her name. 
To pleasure never was Lorenzo deaf ; 
Then hear her now, now first thy real friend. 

Since nature made us not more fond than proud 
Of happiness, (whence hypocrites in joy ! 
Makers of mirth I artificers of smiles !) 
Why should the joy most poignant sense affords, 
Burn us with blushes, and rebuke our pride i" 
Those heaven-born blushes, tell us man descends. 
E'en in the zenith of his earthly bliss : 
Should reason take her infidel repose, 
This honest instinct speaks our lineage high; 
This instinct calls on darkness to conceal 
Our rapturous relation to the stalls. 
Our glory covers us with noble shame, 
And he that's unconfounded, is unman'd. 



118 THE COMPLAINT. [Night VII. 

The man that blushes, is not quite a brute. 

TJius far with thee, Lorewzo, will I close : 

Pleasure is good, and man for pleasure made j 

But pleasure full of glory, as of joy ; 

Pleasure, which neither blushes, nor expires. 
The witnesses are heard ; the cause is o'er : 

Let conscience file the sentence in her court, 

Dearer than deeds that half a realm convey. 

Thus seal'd by truth, th' authentic record runs : 
" Know, all ; know, infidels,— unapt to know I 

'Tis immortality your nature solves ; 

'Tis immortality deciphers man, 

And opens all the mysteries of his make. 

Without it, half his instincts are a riddle ; 

Without it, all his virtues are a dream. 

His very crimes attest his dignity ; 

His sateless thirst of pleasure, gold, and fame, 

Declares him born for blessings infinite : 

What less than infinite, makes unabsurd 

Passions, which ail on earth but more inflames? 

Fierce passions, so mismeasured to this scene, 
Stretch'd out like eagles' wing's, beyond our nest. 
Far, far beyond the worth of ail below. 
For earth too large, presage a nobler flight, 
And evidence our title to the skies." 

Ye gentle theologues, of calmer kind ! 
Whose constitution dictates to your pen ; 
Who cold yourselves, think ardour comes from hell ! 
Think not our passions from corruption sprung, 
Though to corruption now they lend their wings j 
That is their mistress, not their mother. AH 
(And justly; reason deem divine : 1 see, 
-I feel a grandeur in the passions too, 
^Vhich speaks their high descent, and glorious end j 
Which speaks them rays of an eternal fire. 
In Paradise itself they burn'd as strong, 
Ere Adam fell ; though wiser in their aim. 
Like the proud Eastern, struck by Providence, 
What though our passions are run mad, and stoop 
With low terrestrial appetite, to graze 
On trash, on toys, dethroned from high desire.-* 
Fet still, through their disgrace, no feeble ray 
Of greatness shines, and tells us whence they fell : 
But these (like that fall'n monarch when reclaim'd,) 
When reason moderates the rein aright. 
Shall reascend, remount their former sphere. 
Where once they soar'd illustrious ; ere Sbduced 
By wanton Eve's debauch, to stroll on earth. 
And set the sublunary world on fire. 

But grant their frenzy lasts ; their frenzy fails 



THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 119 

TodisappoiDt one providential end, 

For which Heaven blew up ardour in our hearts : 

Were reason silent, boundless passion speaks 

A future scene of boundless objects too, 

And brings glad tidings of eternal day. 

Eternal day ! 'tis that enlightens all ; 

And all, by that cnlighten'd proves it sure. 

Consider man as an immortal being, 

Intelligible all ; and all is great ; 

A crystaliiie transparency prevails. 

And strikes full lustre through the human sphei^3 : 

Consider man as nicrtal,all is dark, 

And wretched ; reason weeps at the survy. 

The learn'd Lorenzo cries, " And let her weep, 
Weak modern reason : ancient times were wise. 
Authority, that venerable guide, 
Stands on my part ; the famed Athenian jiorch 
(And who for wisdom so renown'd as they r; 
Denied this immortality to man." 
I grant it, but affirm, they proved it too. 
A riddle, this ? — Have patience ; I'll explain. 

What noble vanities, what moral flights. 
Glittering through their romantic wisdom's page, 
JNlake us at once despise them, and a(Jniire ? 
Fable is flat to these high season 'd sires ; 
They leave th' extravagance of song below. 
"Flesh shall not feel ; or, feeling, shall enjoy 
The dagger, or the rack ; to them, alike 
A bed of roses, or the burning bull." 
In men exploding all beyond the grave, 
Strange doctrine, this I As doctrine it was strange j 
But not as prophecy ; for such it proved, 
And, to their own amazement, was fuKill'd : 
They feign'd a firmness Christians need not feign. 
The Christian truly triumph'd in the flame : 
The Stoic saw, in double wonder lost, 
Wonder at them, and wonder at himself. 
To find the bold adventures of his thought. 
Not bold, and that lie strove to lie in vain. 

Whence, then, those thoughts.' those towering 
thoughts, that flew 
,Snch monstrous heights.? From instinct, and from pride. 
The glorious instinct of a deathless soul, • 

Confusedly conscious of her dignity, 
Suggested truths fhey could not understand. 
In lust's dominion, and in passion's storm. 
Truth's system brokiMi, scatter'd fragments lay 
As light in chaos, glimmering through the gloom : 
Smit with the pomp of lofty sentiments. 
Pleased pride procIaiin''d what reason disbelieved. 
Pride, like the Delphic priestess, with a swell. 



720 THE COMPLAINT. [Night VIL 

Raved nonsense, destined to be future sense, 
When life immortal, in full day, should shine ; 
And death's dark shadows fly the Gospel sun. 
They spoke, what nothing but immortal souls 
Could speak; and thus the trutli they question'd, prov'd. 

Can then absurdities, as well as crimes. 
Speak man immortal ? all things speak him so. 
Much has been urged ; and dost thou call for more ? 
Call ; and with endless questions be distress'd, 
All unresolvable, if earth is all. 

" Why life, a moment ? infinite, desire ? 
Our wish, eternity ? our home, the grave ? 
Heaven's promise dormant lies in human hope ; 
Who wishes life immortal, proves it too. 
Why happiness pursued, though never found ? 
Man's thirst of happiness declares it is ; 
(For nature never gravitates to nought ;) 
That thirst unquench'd, declares it is not here. 
My Lucia, thy Clarissa call to thought ; 
Why cordial friendship rivetted so deep, 9 
As hearts to pierce at first, at parting, rend, 
If friend and friendship, vanish in an hour? 
Is not this torment in the mask of joy ^ 
Why by reflection marr'd the joys of sense .' 
Why past, and future, preying on our hearts, 
And putting all our present joys to death i 
Why labours reason ? Instinct were as well ; 
Instinct far better; what can choose, can err: 
O how infallible the thoughtless brute ! 
'Twere well his Holiness were half as sure. 
Reason with inclination, why at war : 
Why sense of guilt ? why conscience up in arms ?" 

Conscience of guilt, is prophecy of pain, 
And bosom-counsel to decline the blow, 
Reason with inclination ne'er had jarr'd, 
If nothing future paid forbearance here: 
Thus on— these, and a thousand pleas uncall'd, 
All promise, some ensure, a second scene ; 
Which, were it doubtful, would be dearer far 
Than all things else most certain ; were it false, 
What truth on earth so precious as the lie .' 
This world it gives us, let what will ensue ; 
This world it gives, in that high cordial, hope J 
The future of the present is the soul. 
How this life groans, when sever'd from tlie ne.\t I 
Poor mutilated wretch, that disbelieves ! 
By dark distrust his being cut in two, 
Iri both parts perishes ; life void of joy, 
Bad prelude of eternity in pain ! 

Couldst thou persuade me, the next life could fail 
Our ardent wishes ; how'should I pour out 



THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. I'Jl 

My bleediiif^ heart in aiiciuish, new, as deep! 

Oh ! vvitli what thou^lits, thy Iiope, and my despair 

Abhorr'd anmhilatio.v ! blasts the soul, 

And wide extends the bounds of human woe ! 

Could 1 believe Lorenzo's system true, 

In this black channel would ravinss run : 

" Grief from the future borrow'd peace, erewhile, 
The future vanish'd ! and the present pain'd ! 
Strans^e import of unprecedented ill I 
Fall, how profound I Like Lucifer's the fall ! 
Unequal fate I his fall, without his jruilt ! 
From where fond hope built her pavilion hiph. 
The gods anion?:, hurl'd headlong', hurl'd at once 
To riight ! to nothing ! darker still than ni'j:ht ! 
If 'twas a dream, why wake nie, my worst foe, 
Lorenzo, boastful of the name of friend ! 
O for delusion ! O for error still ! 
Could vengeance strike much stronger, than to make 
A thinkinj: bein? in a world like this, 
Not over-rich before, now beggar'd quite ; 
More curs'd than at the fall ? — The sun coesout ! 
The thorns shoot up ! what thorns in every thought I 
Why sense of better? it embitters worse. 
Why sense ? why life .' if but to sigh, then sink 
To what I was ? Twice nothing ! and much woe ! 
Woe, from Heaven's bounties! wo<! from what was wont 
To flatter most, high intellectual powers'. 

" Thought, virtue, knowledge ! blessings, by thy 
scheme. 
All poison'd into pains. — First, knowledge, once 
My soul's ambition, now her greatest dread. 
To know myself, true wisdom .' No, to shun 
That shocking science, parent of despair !* 
Avert thy mirror : if I see, I die. 

" Know my Creator ! climb his bless'd abode ! 
By painful speculation, pierce the veil^ 
Dive in his nature, read his attributes, 
And gaze in admiration — on a foe, 
Obtruding life, withholding happiness ! 
From the full rivers that surround his throne. 
Not li;tting fall one drop of joy on man : 
Man grasping for one drop, that he might cease 
To curse his birth, nor envy reptiles more ! 
Ye sable clouds ! ye darkest shades of night ! 
Hide him, for ever liide him, from my thoucbt, 
Once all my comfort ; source, and soul of joy ! 
Now leagued with furies, and with thee,* against mc, 

" Know his achievements ! study his renown 1 
Contemplate this amazing universe, 

♦ Lorenzo. 



122 . . THE COMPLAINT. [Night VII. 

Dropp'd from his hand, with miracles replete ! 
For what ? 'Mid miracle of nobler name, 
To find one miracle of misery? 
To find the being, which alone can know 
And praise his works, a blemish on his praise ? 
Through nature's ample range, in thought, to stroll, 
And start at man, the single mourner there, 
Breathing high hope, chain'd down to pangs, and death? 
, " Knowing is suffering: and shall virtue share 
The sigh of knowledge ? — Virtue shares the sigh. 
By straining up the steep of excellent, 
By battles fought, and from temptation won, 
What gains she, but tlie pang of seeing worth, 
Angelic worth, soon shuffled in the dark 
With every vice, and swept to brutal dust ? 
Merit is madness ; virtue is a crime ; 
A crime to reason, if it costs us pain 
Unpaid. What pain, amidst a thousand more, 
To think the most abandon'd, after days 
Of triumph o'er their betters, find in death 
As-soft a pillow, nor make fouler clay ! 

'« Duly ! Religion ! — These, our duty done, 
Imply reward. Religion is mistake. 

Duty I There's none, but to repel the cheat. 

Ye cheats away! ye daughters of my pride ! 

Who feign yourselves the favourites of the skies : 

Ye towering hopes ! abortive energies ! 

That toss, and struggle, in my lying breast, 

To scale the skies, and build presumptions there. 

As I were heir of an eternity. 

Vain, vain ambitions ! trouble me no more. 

Why travel far in quest of sure defeat? 

As bounded.as my being, be my wish. 

All is inverted ; wisdom is a fool. 

Sense ! take the rein ; blind passion ! drive us on ; 

And ignorance ! befriend us on our way ; 

Ye new, but truest patrons of our peace ! 

Yes J give the pulse full empire ; live the brute. 

Since, as the brute, we die. The sum of man, 

Of godlike man I to revel, and to rot. 

" But not on equal terms with other brutes : 
Their revels a more poignant relish yield, 
And safer too ; they never poisons clioose. 
Instinct, than reason, makes more wholesomt^ meals. 
And sends all-marring murmur far away. 
For sensual life they best philosophize j 
Theirs, that serene, the sages sought in vain ; 
'Tis man alone expostulates with Heaven ; 
His, all the power, and all the cause, to mourn. 
Shall human eyes alone dissolve in tears? 
^nd bleed, in anguish, none but human hearts? 



THE IiVFTDEL RECLAIMED. 123 

The wide-stretcli'd realm of intellectual woe, 

Surpassing sensual far, is all our own. 

In life so fatally distiiiji'iisli'd, why 

Cast in one lot, confounded, lump'd, in death ? 

" Ere yet in beinj;, was mankind in guilt.' 
Why thunder'd this peculiar clause against us, 
All-mortal, and all-wretched ? — Have the skies 
Reasons of state, their subjects may not scan, 
IVor humbly reason, when they sorely sigh ? 
All-mortal, and all-wretched ! — 'tis too much ; 
Unparalkl'd in nature : 'tis too much. 
On being unrequested at thy hands. 
Omnipotent! For 1 see nought but power. 

" And why see that ? Why thought.' To toil and eai 
Then make our bed in darkness, needs no thought, 
What superfluities are reasoning souls ! 
Oh, give eternity! or thought destroy ! 
But vvithout thought, our curse were half unfelt ; 
Its blunted edge would spare the throbbing heart; 
And, therefore, 'tis bestow'd. I thank thee, reason 
For aiding life's too small calamities. 
And giving being to the dread of death. 
Buch are thy bounties I — Was it then too much 
For nie, to trespass on the brutal rights ? 
Too much for Heaven to make one emmet more ? 
Too much for chaos to permit my mass 
A longer stay with essences unvvrought, 
Unfashion'd, untormented into n)an .' 
Wretched preferment to this round of pains ! 
Wretched capacity of frenzy, thouglit ! 
Wretched capacity of dying, life ! 
Life, thouglit, worth, wisdom all, (O foul revolt !) 
Once friends to peace, gone over to the foe. 
• '• Dealli, then, has changed its nature too : O death ! 
Come to my bosom, thou best gift of Heaven ! 
Best friend of man ! since man is man no more. 
Why in this' thorny wilderness so long. 
Since there's no promised land's ambrosial bower. 
To pay me with its honey for my stings ? 
If needful to the selfish schcones of Heaven 
To sting us sore, why mock'd our misery ? 
Why this so sumptuous insult o'er our heads ? 
Why thisillustrious cano|)y display'd.' 
Why so magnificently lodged despair ? 
At slated periods, sure-returning, roll • 
These glorious orbs, that mortals may compute 
Their length of labours, and of pains ; nor lose 
Their misery's full measure ? — Smiles with flowers, 
And fruits, "promiscuous, ever-teeming earth, 
1'hat man may languish in luxurious scenes, 
And in an Eden mourn his withcr'd joys ? 



124 . THE COMPLAINT. , [Night VII. 

Claim earth and skies man's admiration, due 
For such delights ? BJess'd animals ! too wise 
To wonder, and too happy to coai plain ! 

»< Our doom decreed demands a mournful scenej 
Why not a dungeon dark, for the condemn'd? 
Why not the dragon's subterranean den. 
For man to howl in ? Why not his abode 
Of the same dismal colour with his fate ? 
A Thebes, a Babylon, at vast expense 
Of time, toil, treasure, art, for owls and adders, 
As congruous, as, for man, this lofty dome. 
Which prompts proud thought, and kindles his desire j 
If, from her humble chamber in the dust. 
While proud thought swells, and high desire inflames. 
The poor worm calls us for her inmates there 
And, round us, death's inexorable hand 
Draws the dark curtain close ; undrawn no more. 

" Undrawn no more !" — Behind the cloud of death, 
Once, 1 beheld a sun ; a sun which gilt 
That sable cloud, and turn'd it all to gold. 
Hqw the grave's alter'd ! fathomless, as hell ! 
A real hell to those who dream'd of heaven. 
ANNrIHILATIo^f ! How it yawns before me ! 
Next moment I may drop from thought, from sense, 
The privilege of angels, and of worms. 
An outcast from existence ! and this spirit, 
This all-pervading, this all-conscious soul, 
This particle of energy divine. 
Which travels nature, flies from star to star, 
And visits gods, end emulates their powers, 
For ever is extinguish'd. Horror ! death ! 
Dfcath of that death 1 fearless once survey 'd ! — 
When horror universal shall descend. 
And heaven's dark concave urn all human race. 
On that enormous, unrefundingtomb. 
How just this verse ! this monumental sigh !" 

Beneath the lumber of demolished worlds, 
Deep in the rubbish of the general wrecky 
Sir'ept iff-nomivious to the common mass 
Of matter, never dign^ed with life, 
Here lie proud rationals ; the sons of Heaven ! 
The lords of earth ! the -property vf worms! 
BeiniTs of yesterday, and no to-morrow ! 
Who lived in terror, and in pangs expired! 
Jill gone to rot m chaos ; or, to make 
Their happy transit into blocks, or brutes, 
JVor longer sidly their Creatures name. 

Lorenzo '. hear, pause, wonder, and pronounce. 
Just is this history? If such is man, 
Mankind's historian, though divine, might weep 



THE LNFIDEL RECLAIMED. 125 

And (larea Lorenzo smile ! — I know tliee proud, 
For once let pride befriend thee : pride looks pale 
At such a scene, and sighs for something more. 
Amid thy boasts, presumptions, and displays. 
And art tf^ou then a shadow ? less than shade ? 
And nothing? less than nothin;'? To have been, 
And not to be, is lower than urujorn. 
Art thou ambitious ? Why then make the worm 
Thine equal ? Runs thy taste of pleasure high ? 
Why patronise sure death of evei* joy ? 
Charm riches i" Why choose beggary in the grave, 
Of every hope a bankrupt ! and for ev%r ? 
Ambition, pleasure, avarice, persuade thee 
To make that world of glory, rapture, wealth, 
They* lately proved, thy soul's supreme desire. 

What art thou made of? Rather, how unmade? 
*reat nature's master-appetite destroy'd ! 
3 endless life, and happiness, despised ? 
.)r both wish'd here, where neither can be found, 
•uch man's jierverse, eternal war with Heaven ? 
barest thou persist ? and is there nought on earth 
(ut a long train of transitory forms, 
rising, and breaking, millions in an hour? 
lubbles of a fantastic deity, blown up 
n sport, and then in cruelty destroy'd ? 
*h ! for what crime, unmerciful Lorenzo ! 
•estroys thy scheme the whole of human race ? 
lind is fell Lucifer, compared to thee : 
»h 1 spare this waste of being half divine ; 
.nd vindicate th' ceconomy of Heaven. 
Heaven is all love ; all joy in giving joy j 
never had created, but to bless : 
nd shall it, then, strike off the list of life, 
. being hiess'd, or worthy so to be ? 
eaven starts at an annihilating Goo. 
Is that, all nature starts at, thy desire ? 
rt such a clod, to wish thyself all clay ? 
'hat is that dreadful wish ? — The dying groan 
f nature, murder'd by the blackest guilt, 
hat deadly poison hastily nalure drank ? 
> nalure, undebauch'd, no shock so great ; 
iture's tirst wish, is endless happiness ; 
inihilation is an after-thought, 
monstrous wish, unborn till virtue dies, 
id, oh ! what depth of horror lies enclosed ! 
r non-existence no man ever wish'd, 
t, first, he wish'd the Deitv destroy'd. 
f so ; what words are dark enough to draAv, 
y picture true ? The darkest are too fair. 

♦In tiie Sixth Night. 



126 THE COMPLAINT. Night VII. 

Beneath what baneful planet, in what hour 
Of desperation, by what fury's aid, 
In what infernal posture of the soul, 
All hell invited, and all hell in joy 
At such a birtii, a birth so near of kin, 
Did thy foul fancy whelp so black a scheme 
Of hopes abortive, faculties half blown. 
And deities begun, reduced to dust ? 

There's nought (thou say'st)b!it one eternal flux 
Of feeble essences, tumultuous driven 
Through time's rough billows into night's abyss. 
Say, in this rapid tide of human ruin. 
Is there no rock, on which man's tossing thought 
Can rest from terror, dare his fate survey, 
And boldly think it something to be born ? 
Amid such hourly wrecks of being fair, 
Is there no central, all-sustaining base. 
All realizing, all-connecting power. 
Which, as it cali'd forth all things, can recall, 
And force destruction to refund her spoil .' 
Command the grave restore her taken prey ? 
Bill death's dark vale its human harvest yield, 
And earth, and ocean, pay their debt of man, 
True to the grand do[insit trusted there? 
Is there no potentate, whose outstretch'd arm, 
When ripening time calls forth th' appointed hour, 
Phick'd from foul devastation's famish'd maw, 
Binds present, past, and future, to his throne ? 
His throne, how glorious, thus divinely graced, 
By germinating beings clustering round I 
A garland worthy the Divinity I 
A throne, by Heaven's omnipotence in smiles, 
Built (like a Pharos towering in the waves) 
Amidst immense effusions of his love 1 
An ocean of communicated bliss ! 

An all-prolific, all-preserving God ! 
This were a God indeed. — And such is man, 
As here presumed : he rises from his fall. 
Think'st thou Omnipotence a naked root. 
Each blossom fair of Deitv destroyed ? 
Nothing is dead ; nay, nothing sleeps : each soul, 
That ever animated human clay, 
Now wakes ! is on the wing : and where, O where, 
Will the swarm settle? — When the trumpet's call. 
As sounding brass, collects us, round Heaven's throix 
Conglobed, we bask in everlasting day, 
(Paternal splendour '.) and adhere /orever. 
Had not the soul this outlet to the skies. 
In this vast vessel of the universt. 
How should we gasp, as in an empty void ! 
How in the pangs of lamish'd hope expire ? 



THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 1?27 

How briiiht my prospect shines ! liow gloomy, tliiue ! 
A trembling woriri ! and a devouring god I 
Earth, hnt the shambles of oninipotejice I 
Heaven's face all stain'd with cauieless massacres 
Of countless millions, born to feel the pang 
Of beins; lost. Lores zo I can it be.' 
This bids ns shndderatthe thoujihts of life. 
Who would be born to such a phantom world, 
Where nought substantial, but our misery .' 
Where joy (if joy) but heightens our distress. 
So soon to perish, and revive no more .' 
The greater such a joy, the more it pains. 
A world, so far from great, (and yet ho/V great 
It sb.ues to thee !) there's nothing real in it ; 
Beinc, a shadow ! consciousness, a dream I 
A dream, how dreadful ! universal blank 
Before it, and behind ! Poor man, a spark 
From non-existence struck by wrath divine; 
Glittering a moment, nor that moment sure ; 
'Midst upper, nether, and surrounding night, 
His sad, sure, sudden, and eternal lumb ! 

LoEE.Nzo, dost thou feel these arguments .-• 
Or is there nought but vengeance can be fslt ? 
How liast thou dared the Deitv dethrone? 
How dared indict him of a world like this? 
If such the world, creation was a crime ; 
For what is crime, but cause of misery ? 
Retract, blasphemer ! and unriddle this, 
Of endless arguments, above, below. 

Without us, and within, the short result 

" If man's immortal there's a God in heaven." 

But wherefore such redundancy ? such waste 
Of areument.' One seL* my soul at rest ! 
One obvious, and at hhnd, and, oh I — at heart : 
So just the skies, Philander's life so pain'd. 
His heart so pure ; that, or succeeding scenes 
Have palms to give, or ne'er had he been born. 

«' What an old tale is tl.is I" Loren zo cries. 
1 grant this argument is old ; but truth 
No years impaTr : and had not this been true, 
Thou never hadst despised it for its age. 
Truth is immortal as thy soul ; and fable 
As fleeting as thy joys. Be wise, nor make 
Heaven's highest blessing, vengeance ; O be wise ! 
XVor make a curse of immortality. 

Say, know'st thou what it is, or what thou art ? 
Know'st thou th' importance of a soul immortal? 
Behold this midnight slory : worlds on worlds ! 
Amazing pomp ! redouble this amaze ; 
Ten thousand add ; and twice ten thousand more ; 
Then weigh the whole : one soul outweighs them all'; 



128 THE COMPLAIIST. [Xight Vll. 

And calls th' astonishing magnificence 
Of iinintelliffent creation, poor. 

For this, b.lieve not me ; no man believe : 
Trust not in words, but deeds ; and deeds no less 
Than those of the Supreme ; nor his, a few : 
Consult them all ; consulted, all proclaim 
Thy soul's importance. Tremble at thyself: 
For whom Omnipotence has waked so long : 
Has waked, and work'd for ages ; from the birth 
Of nature, to this unbelieving hour. 

In this small province of His vast domain, 
(All nature bow, wliile I pronounce His name !) 
What has God done, and not for this sole end, 
To rescue souls from death .' The soul's high price 
Is writ in all the conduct of the skies. 
The souls high price is the creation's key, 
Unlocks its mysteries, and naked lays 
'J"he genuine cause of every deed divine : 
That, is the chain of ages," which maintains 
Their obvious correspondence, and unites 
Most distant periods in one bless'd design. 
That, is the mighty hinge, on which have turn'd 
All revolutions, whether we regard 
The natural, civil, or religious world ; 
The former two but servants to the third : 
To that their duty done, they both expire ; 
Their mass new cast; forgot tlieir deeds renown'd ; 
And anffelsask, ■ where once they shone so^air "' 

To lift us from this abject, to sublime : 
This dux, to permanent ; this dark, to day ; 
'J'hisfoul, to pure ; this turbid, to serene : 
This mean, to mighty '—for this glorious end 
Th' Almighty, rising, his long^abbath broke ! 
The world was made ; was ruiri'd ; was restored ; 
Laws from tiie skies were publish'd ; were repeal'd ; 
On eartii, kings, kingdoms, rose; kings, kingdoms, fell; 
Faulted sages lighted up the Pagan world ; 
Prophets from tSion darted a keen glance 
Through distant age ; saints travePd ; martyrs bled ; 
By wonders sacred nature stood control 'd ; 
The living were translated ; dead were raised ; 
Anuels, and more than angels, came from heaven ; 
And, oh ! for this, descended lower still ! / 
Gilt was hell's gloom ; astonish'd at his guest, 
For one short moment Lucifer adored : 
LoREPfzo! and wilt thou do less r — For this, 
That hallow'd page, fools scoff at, was inspired, 
Of all these truths thrice-venerable code '. 
Deists ! perform your quarantine ; and then 
Fall prostrate, ere you touch it, lest you die. 
Nor less intensely bent infernal powers 



THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 129 

To mar, than those of light, this end to gain. 

O what a scene is here ! Lorenzo, wake! 

Rise to the thought ; exert, expand thy soul 

To take the vast idea : it denies 

All else the name of great. Two warring worlds ! 

JVot Europe against Afric ; warring worlds. 

Of more than mortal ! mounted on the wing ! 

On ardent wings of energy, and zeal, 

High-hovering o'er this little brand of strife ! 

This sublunary ball— But strife, for what ? 

In their own cause conflicting ? No; in thine, 

In man's. His single interest blows the flame ; 

His the sole stake ; his fate the trumpet sounds, 

Which kindles war immortal. How it burns ! 

Tumultuous swarms of deities in arms ! 

Force, force opposing, till the waves run high, 

And tempest nature's universal sphere. 

Such opposites eternal, stedfast, stern, 

Such foes implacable, are Good and 111 ; [them* 

Yet man, vain man, would meditate peace between 

Think not this fiction. "There was war in heaven." 
From heaven's high crystal mountain, where it hung, 
Th' Almighty's outstretch'd arm took dov^ his bow, 
And shot his indignation at the deep : 
Re-thunder'd hell, and darted all her fires. — 
And seems the stake of little moment still ? 
And slumbers man, who singly caused the storm ? 
He sleeps. — And art thou shock'd at mysteries ? 
The greatest, though. How dreadful to reflect, 
What ardour, care^and counsel, mortals cause 
In breasts divine '. how little in their own I 

Where'er I turn, how new proofs pour upon mc ! 
How happily this wondrous view supports 
My former argument i* How strongly strikes 
Immortal life's full demonstration, here ! 
Why this exertion ? Why this strange regard 
From heaven's Omnipotent indulged to man ? — 
Because, in man, the glorious, dreadful power, 
Extremely to be pain'd, or bless'd, forever. 
Duration gives importance ; swells the price. 
An angel, if a creature of a day, 
What would he be .' A trifle of no weight ; 
Or stand, or fall ; no matter which ; he's gone. 
Because immortal, therefore is indulged 
This strange regard of deities to dust. 
Hence, heaven looks down on earth with all hereye»: 
Hence, the soul's mighty moment in her sight: 
Hence, every soul has partisans above, 
And every thought a critic in the skies : 
Hence, clay, vile clay ! has angels for its guard, 
And every guard a passion for his charge : ,„ 



130 THE COMPLAINT. [Night VII. 

Hence, from all age, the cabinet divine 
Has held high counsel o'er the fate of man. 

Nor have the clouds those gracious counsels hid. 
Angels undrew the curtain of the throne. 
And Providence came forth to meet mankind : 
In various modes of emphasis and awe. 
He spoke his will, and trembling nature heard : 
He spoke it loud, in thunder and in storm. 
Witness, thou Sinai ! whose cloud-cm'er'd height. 
And shaken basis, own'd the present God : 
Witness, ye billows ! whose returning tide, 
Breaking the chain that fasten'd it in air, 
Swept Egypt, and her menaces, to hell : 
Witness, ye tlames ! th' Assyrian tyrant blew 
To sevenfold rage, as impotent, as strong : 
And thou, earth ! witness, whose expanding jaws 
Closed o'er presumption's sacrilegious sons.* 
Has not each element, in turn, subscribed 
The soul's high price, and sworn it to the wise ? 
Has not flame, ocean, aether, earthquake, strove 
To strike this truth through adamantine man ? 
If not all adamant, Lorenzo ! hear : 
All is delusic*! ; nature is wrapt up. 
In tenfold night, from reason's keenest eye ; 
There's no consistence, meaning, plan, or end, 
In all beneath the sun, in all above 
(As far as man can penetrate,) or heaven 
Is an immense, inestimable prize : 
Or all is nothing, or that prize is all. — 
And shall each toy be still a match for heaven, 
And full equivalent for groans below? 
Who would not give a trifle to prevent. 
What he would give a thousand worlds to cure ? 

Lorenzo ! thou hast seen (if thine to see) 
All nature, and her God (by nature's course, 
And natut-e's course control'd,) declare forme: 
The skies above proclaim, " Immortal man!" 
And, " Man immortal !" all below resounds. 
The world's a system of theology, 
Kead by the greatest strangers to the schools : 
If honest, learn'd; aiid sages o'er a plough. 
Is not, Lorenzo, then, imposed on thee 
This hard alternative ; or, to renounce 
Thy reason, and thy sense ; or, to believe ? 
What then is unbelief? 'Tis an exploit; 
A strenuous enterprise.: to gain it, man 
Must burst through every bar of common sense, 
Of common shame, magnanimously wrong. 
And what rewards the sturdy combatant? 
His prize, repentance ; infamy, his crown. 

• Korali, &c. 



THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 131 

But wherefore infamy ?— For want of faith, 
Down the stt-ep precipice of wrong he slides ; 
There's nothing to support him in the right. 
Faith in the future wanting, is, at least 
In embryo, every weakness, every guilt ; 
And strong temptation ripens it to birth. 
If this life's gain invites him to the deed, 
Why not his country sold, his father slain? 
'Tis virtue to pursue our good supreme ; 
And his supreme, his only good, is here. 
Ambition, avarice, by the wise disdain'd. 
Is perfect wisdom, whil»mankind are fools, 
And think a turf, or tombstone, covers all : 
These find employment, and provide for sense 
A richer pasture, and a larger range ; 
And sense by right divine ascends the throne, 
When virtue's prize and prospect are no more ; 
Virtue no more we think the will of Heaven. 
Would Heaven quite beggar virtue, if beloved .' 

" Has virtue charms ?" — I grant her heavenly fair j 
But if unportion'd, all will interest wed ; 
Though that our admiration, this our choice. 
The virtues grow on immortality ; 
That root destroy'd, they wither and expire. 
A Dkity believed, will nought avail ; 
Rewards and punishments make God adored ; 
And hopes and fears give conscience all her power. 
Aa in the dying partnt dies the child, 
Virtue, with immortality, expires. 
Who tells me he denies his soul immortal, 
Whate'er his boast, has told me, he's a knave. 
His duty 'tis, to love himself alone ; 
Nor care tiiough mankind perish, if he smiles. 
Who thinks ere long the man shall wholly die, 
Is dead already ; nought but brute survives. 

And are there such .'—Such candidates there are 
For more than death : for utter loss of being: 
Being, the basis of the Deity !' 
Ask you the cause .' — The cause they will not tell j 
Nor need they : oh the sorceries of sense '. 
They work this transformation on the soul ; 
Dismount her, like the serp«;nt at the fall, 
Dismount her from her native wing (which soar'd 
Erewhile ethereal heights,) and throw her down, 
To lick the dust, and crawl in such a thought. 

Is it in words to paint you .•* O ye fallen ! 
Fallen from the wings of reason, and of hope ! 
Erect in stature, prone in appetite I 
Patrons of pleasure, posting into pain ! 
Lovers of argument, averse to sense ! 
Boasters of liberty, fast bound in chains! 



132 THE COMPLAINT. [Night VII. 

Lords of the wide creation, and the shame ! 

More senseless than tli' irrationals you scorn ! 

More base than those you rule I than those you pity, 

Far more undone : O ye most infamous 

Of beings, from superior dignity ! 

Deepest in "woe, from means of boundless bliss ! 

Ye cursed by blessings infinite ! because 

Most highly favour'd, most profoundly lost ! 

Ye motley mass of contradiction strong I 

And are you, too, convinced, your souls fly off 

In exhalation soft, and die in air, 

From the full flood of evidence against you? 

In the coarse drudgeries, and sinks of sense, 

Your souls have quite worn out the make of Heaven, 

By vice new-cast, and creatures of 3'ourown : 

But though you can deform, you can't destroy ; 

To curse, not uncreate, is all your power. 

Lorenzo ! this black brotherhood renounce j 
Renounce St. Evremont, and read St. Paul. 
Ere xapt by miracle, by reason wing'd. 
His mounting mind made long abode in heaven. 
This is freethinking, unconfined to parts, 
To send the soul, on curious travel bent, 
Through all the provinces of human thought ; 
To dart her flight, through the whole sphere of man ; 
Of this vast universe to make the tour ; 
In each recess of space, and time, at home 5 
Familiar with their wonders : diving deep ; 
And like a prince of boundless interests there, 
Still most ambitious of the most remote ; 
To look on truth unboken, and entire ; 
Truth in the system, the full orb ; where truths 
By truths enlighten'd,and sustain'd, atford 
Anarch-like, strong foundation, to support 
Th' incumbent weight of absolute, complete 
Conviction : here the more we press, we stand 
More firm ; who most examine, most believe. 
Parts, like half sentences, confound ; the whole 
Conveys the sense, and God is understood ; 
Who not in fragments writes to human race : 
Bead his whole volume, sceptic ! then reply. 

This, this, is thinking free, a thought that grasps 
Beyond a grain, and looks beyond an hour. 
Turn up thine eye, survey this midnight scene : 
What are earth's kingdoms, to yon boundless orbs, ' 
Of human souls, one day the destined range ! 
And what yon boundless orbs, to godlike man ? 
Those numerous worlds that throng the firmament, 
And ask more space in heaven, can roll at large 
In man's capacious thought, and still leave room 
For ampler orbs ; for new creations, there. 



THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 133 

Can such a soul contract itself, to gripe 
A point of no dimension, of no weight ? 
It can J it does ; the world is such a point ; 
And, of that point, how small a part enslaves ! 

How small a part — of nothing, shall I say? 
Why not ? — Friends, our chief treasure, how they drop ! 
LcciA, Narcissa fair, Philander, gone ! 
The grave, like fabled Cerberus, has oped 
A triple mouth ; and, in an- awful voice, 
Loud calls my soul, and utters all I sing. 
How the world falls to pieces round about us, 
And leaves us in a ruin of our joy ! 
What says this transportation of my friends ? 
It bids me love the place where now they dwell, 
And scorn this wretched spot, they leave so poor. 
Eternity's vast ocean lies before thee ; 
There, there, Lobrnzo ! thy Clarissa sails. 
Give thy mind sea-room ; keep it wide of earth. 
That rock of souls immortal ; cut thy cord ; 
Weigh anchor ; spread thy sails ; call every wind j 
Eye thy great Pole-star ; make the land of life. 

Two kinds of life has double-natured man. 
And two of death ; the last far more severe. 
Life animal is nurtured by thasun ; 
Thrives on his bounties, triumphs in his beams. 
Life rational subsists on higher food. 
Triumphant in His beams, who made the day. 
When we leave that sun, and are left by tjiis 
(The fate of all who die in stubborn guilt,) 
'Tis utter darkness ; strictly double death. 
We sink by no judicial stroke of Heaven, 
But nature's course ; as sure as plummets fall. 
Since God, or man, must alter ere they meet, 
(For light and darkness blend not in one sphere,) 
»Tis manifest, Loi^ESfzo, who must change. 

If, then, that double death should prove tby lot, 
Blame not the bowels of the Deity : 
Man shall be bless'd, as far as man permits. 
Not man alone, all rationals, heaven arms 
With an illustrious, but tremendous power 
To counteract its own most gracious ends ; 
And this, of strict necessity, not choice : 
That power denied, men, angels, were no more 
Bilt passive engines, void of praise, or blame. 
A nature rational, implies the power 
Of being bless'd, or wretched, as we please ; 
Else idle reason would have nought to do : 
And he that would be barr'd capacity 
Of pain, courts incapacity of bliss. 
Heaven wills our happiness, allows our doom j 
Invites us ardently, but not coicpels. 



134 THE COMPLAINT. [Night VII. 

Heaven but persuatlee, almiglity man decrees ; 

Man is the maker of i in mortal fates. 

Man falls by man, if rtnally he falls ; 

And fall he must, who learns from death alone, 

The dreadful secret — that he lives for ever. 

Why this to thee ?— thee yet, perhaps, in doubt 
Of second life ? But wherefore doubtful still ? 
Eternal life is nature's ardent tvish : 
What ardently we wish, we. soon believe : 
Thy tardy faith declares that wish destroy'd : 
What has destroy'd it ? — Shall I tell thee what ? 
When fear'd the future, 'tis no longer wish'd ; 
And, when unwish'd, we strive to disbelieve, 
" Thus infidelity our guilt betrays." 
Nor that the sole detection ! Blush, Lorekzo ! 
Blush for hypocrisy, if not for guilt. 

The future fear'd !— An infidel, and fear .J" 
Fear what.' a dream ? a fable ? — IIow thy dread, 
Unwilling evidence, and therefore strong, 
Affords my cause an undesign'd supportl 
How disbelief aftinns, what it denies : 
" It, unawares, asserts immortal life."— 
Surprising! infidelity turns out 
A creed, and a confession of our sins : 
Apostates, thus, are orthodox divines. 

LiORENzo '. with Lorenzo clash no more; 
Nor longer a transparent vizor wear. 
Think'stthou, Religion only has her mask ? 
Our infidels-are Satan's hypocrites ; 
Pretend the worst, and, at the bottom, fail. 
When visited by thought (thought will intrude,) 
Like him they serve, they tremble, and believe. 
Is there hypocrisy so foul as this ? 
So fatal to the welfare of the world ? 
What detestation, what contempt, their due ? 
And, if unpaid, be thank'd for their escape 
That Christian candour they strive hard to scorn. 
If not for that asylum, they might find 
A hell on earth ; nor 'scape a worse below. 

With insolence, and impotence of thought, 
Instead of racking fancy, to refute, 
Reform thy manners, and the truth enjoy.— 
But shall I dare confess the dire result ,' 
Can thy proud reason brook so black a brand ? 
From purer manners, to sublimer faith. 
Is nature's unavoidable ascent; 
An honest deist, where the Gospel shines. 
Matured to nobler, in the Christian ends. 
When that bless'd change arrives, e'en cast aside 
This song superfluous ; life immortal strikes 
Conviction, in a flood of light divine 



THE LXFIDEL RECLAIMED. 135 

A Christian dwells, like Uriel, in the sun ;* 

Meridian evidence pnts doubt to tiight ; 

And ardent hope anticipates the skies. 

Of that bright sun, Lorenzo ! scale the sphere ! 

'Tis easy ! it invites thee ; it descends 

From heaven to woo, and waft thee whence it canie : 

Read and revere the sacred page ; a page 

Where triumphs immortality; a page 

Which not the wliole creation could produce ; 

Wliich not the conflagration shall destroy ; 

*Tis printed in the mind of gods for ever : 

In nature's ruins not one letter lost. 

In proud disdain of what e'en gods adore, 
Dost smile .' — Poor wretch ! tliy guardian ajigel weepB. 
Angels, and men, assent to what I sing ; 
Wits smile, and thank me for my midnight dream. 
How vicious hearts fume frenzy to the brain ! 
Parts push us on to pride, and pride to shame j 
Pert infidelity is wit's cockade. 
To grace the brazen brow that braves the skies, 
By loss of being, dreadfully secure. 
Lorenzo ! if thy doctrine wins the day. 
And drives my dreams, defeated, from the field j 
If this is all, if earth a final scene. 
Take heed ; stand fast ; be sure to be a knave ; 
A knave in grain ! ne'er deviate to the right : 
Shouldst tliou be good— how infinite thy loss ! 
Guilt only makes annihilation gain. 
filess'd scheme ! which life deprives of comfort, death 
Of hope ; and which vice only recommends. 
If so, where, infidels ! your bait thrown out 
To catch weak converts ? Where your lolly boast 
Of zeal for virtue, and of love to man .' 
Annihilation ! I confess, in these. 

What can reclaim you ? Dare I hope profound 
Philosophers the converts of a song .-' 
Yet know, its titlef flatters you, not me : 
Yours be the praise to make my title good ; 
Mine, to bless Heaven, and triumph in your praise : 
But since so pestilential your disease. 
Though sovereign is the medicine I prescribe, 
As yet, I'll neither Uiumpli, nor despair : 
But hope, ere long, my midnight dream will wake 
Your hearts, and teach your wisdom — to be wise : 
For why should souls immortal, made for bliss, 
E'er wish (and wish in vain !) that souls could die ? 
What ne'er can die, oh ! grant to live ; and crown 
The wish, and aim, and labour of the skies ; 



♦Milton. _ t 'i'lie I"fi'J^l I^<^claimed. 



136 THE COMPLAINT. [Night VII. 

Increase, and enter on the joys of heaven : 
Thus shall my title pass a sacred seal, 
Receive an imprimatur from above. 
While angels shout— An infidel reclaim'd ! 

To close, Lorenzo. Spite of all my pains, 
Still seems it strange, that thou shouldst live for ever? 
Is it less strange that thou shouldst live at all ? 
This is a miracle : and that no more. 
Who gave beginning, can exclude an end. 
Deny thou art: then, doubt if thou shalt be. 
A miracle with miracles enclosed. 
Is man : And starts his faith at what is strange.' 
What less than wonders, from the Wonderful ; 
What less than miracles, from God, can flow ? 
Admit a God— that mystery supreme ^ 
That cause uncaused ! all other wonders cease ; 
Nothing is marvellous for Him to do : 
Deny Him— all is mystery besides j 
Millions of mysteries ! each darker far. 
Than that thy wisdom would, unwisely, shun. 
If weak thy faith, why choose the harder side ? 
We nothing know, but what is marvellous ; 
Yet vvhat is marvellous, we can't believe. 
So weak our reason, and so great our God, 
What most surprises in the sacred page. 
Or full as strange, or stranger, must be true. 
Faith is not reason's labour, but repose. 

To faith, and virtue, why so backward, man .' 
From hence : The present strongly strikes us all ; 
The future, faintly. Can we, then, be men ? 
If, men, Lorenzo, the reverse is right. 
Reason is man's peculiar j sense, the brute's, 
The present is the scanty realm of sense ; 
The future, reason's empire unconfined : 
On that expending all her godlike power. 
She plans, provides, expatiates, triumphs, there ; 
There, builds her blessings ; there, expects her praise ; 
And nothing asks of fortune, or of men. 
And what is reason ? Be she thus defined : 
Reason is upright stature in the soul. 
Oh ! be a man ;— and strive to be a god. 

" For what ? (thou say'st :) To damp the joys of life?'* 
No ; to give the heart and substance to thy joys. 
That tyrant, hope ; mark how he domineers : 
She bids us quit realities, for dreams ; 
Safety and peace, for hazard and alarm : 
That tyrant o'er the tyrants of the soul, 
She bids ambition quit its taken prize, 
Spurn the luxuriant branch on which it sits, 
Though bearing crowns, to spring at distant game j 
Aud plunge in toils and dangers— for repose. 



THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 137 

If hope precarious, and of things, when gain'd. 

Of little momeut, and as little stay. 

Can sweeten tojis and da7igers into joys ; 

What, then, that hope, which nothing can defeat, 

Our leave unask'd ? rich hope of boundless bliss ! 

Bliss, past man's power to paint it ; time's to close I 

This hope is earth's most estimable prize : 
This is man's portion, while no more than man : 
Hope, of all passions, most befriends us here ; 
Passions of prouder name befriend us iBss. 
Joy has her tears : and transport has her death : 
Hope, like a cordial, innocent, though strong, 
Man's heart, at once, inspirits and serenes ; 
Nor makes him pay his wisdom for his joys: 
'Tis all our present state can safely bear. 
Health to the frame I and vigour to the mind ! 
A joy attemper'd ! a chastised delight ! 
Like the fair summer evening, mild, and sweet ! 
'Tis man's full cup ; his paradise below ! 

A bless'd hereafter, then, or hop'd or gain'd 
Is all ; — our whole of happiness : full proof, 
I chose no trivial or inglorious theme. 
And know, ye foes to song ! (well-meaning men. 
Though quite forgotten half your Bible's* praise !) 
Important truths, in spite of verse, may please. 
Grave minds you praise ; nor can you praise too much. 
If there is weieht in an Eternity, 
Let the grave listen j— and be graver still. 

* The poetical parts of it. • 



NIGHT THE EIGHTH. ^ 



VIRTUE'S APOLOGY. 

OB, 

THE MAN OF THE WORLD AJMSWERED. 



Iw WHICH ARE CONSIDERED) THE LoVE OP THIS LiFS i 

THK Ambition and Pleasure, with the Wit 
AND Wisdom, of the World. 



And has all nature, then, espoused my part ? 
Have I bribed heaven, and earth, to plead against thee? 
And is thy soul immortal ? — What remains ? 
All, all, Lorenzo ! — Make immortal, bless'd. 
Unbless'd, immortals 1 — what can shock us more ? 
And yet Lobenzo still affects the world ; 
There, stows his treasure ; thence, his title draws, 
Man of the world (for such wouldst thou be call'd.) 
And art thou proud of that injilorious style ? 
Proud of reproacli .' for a reproach it was. 
In ancient days; and Christian, — in an age 
When men were men, and not ashamed of heaven, 
Fired their ambition, as it crown'd their joy. 
Spnnkled with dews from the Castalian font, 
Fain would I re-haptize thee, and confer 
A purer spirit, and a nobler name. 

Thy fond attachments, fatal, and inflamed, 
Point out my path, and dictate to my song : 
To thee, the world how fair! hmv strongly strikes 
Ambition ! and gay pleasure stronger stilJ! 
Thy triple bane ! the triple bolt that lays 
Thy virtue dead 1 Be these thy triple theme ; 
Nor shall thy wit, or wisdom, be forgot. 

Common tlie theme ; not so the song ; if she 
My song invokes, Urania, deigns to smile. 
The charm that chains us to the world, her foe, 
If she dissolves, the man of earth, at once, 
Starts from his trance, and sighs for other scenes j 
Scenes, where these sparks of night, these stars, shall 
CJ-naumbered suns (for all things, as they are, [shine 



140 THE COiMPLAINT [Night Vlll. 

The bless'd behold ;) and, in one glory pour 
Their blended blaze on man's astonish'd sight j ♦ 

A blaze the least illustrious object there. 

Lorenzo ! since eternal is at hand, 
To swallow time's ambitions ; as the vast . 
Leviathan, the bubbles vain, that ride 
High on the foaming billow ; what avail 
High titles, high descent, attainments high, 
If unjfttain'd our highest ? O Lorenzo ! 
What lofty thoughts, these elements above, 
What towering hopes, what sallies from the sun, 
What grand sur^ys of destiny divine, 
And pompous piTsage of unfathom'd fate, 
Should roll in bosoms, where aspirit burns, 
Bound for eternity ! in bosoms read 
By Him, who foibles in archangels sees ! 
On human hearts He bends a jealous eye, 
And marks, and in heaven's register inrolls, 
The rise, and progress, of each option there ; 
Sacred to doomsday ! That the page unfolds, 
And spreads us to the gaze of gods and men. 

And what an option, O Lorenzo ! thine ? 
This world ! and this, unrivall'd by the skies ! 
A world, where lust of pleasure, grandeur, gold, 
Three danions that divide its realms between them, 
With strokes alternate buffet to and fro 
Man's restless heart their sport, their flying ball j 
Till, with the giddy circle, sick, and tired. 
It pants for peace, and drops into despair. 
Such is the world Lorenzo sets above 
That glorious promise angels were esteem'd 
Too mean to bring ; a promise, their Adored 
Descended to corinnuHicate,and press. 
By counsel, miracle, life, death, on man. 
Such is the world Lorenzo's wisdom wooes, 
And on its thorny pillow seeks repose ; 
A pillow, which, like opiates ill prepared, 
Intoxicates, but not composes ; fills 
The visionary mind with gay chimreras, 
All the wild trash of sleep, without the rest; 
What unfeign'd travel, and what dreams of joy ! 

How frail, men, things ! How momentary, both! 
Fantastic chase of shadows hunting shades ! 
The gay, the busy, equal, though unlike ; 
Equal in wisdom, differently wise ! 
Through flowery meadows, and through dreary wastes, 
One bustling, and CHie dancing, into death. 
There's not a day, hut, to the man of thought. 
Betrays some secret, that throws new reproach 
On life, and makes him sick of seeing more. 
The scenes of business tell us— " What are men ;" 



VIRTUE'S APOLOGY. ]« 

The scenes of pleasure— " What is all beside :" 
There, others we despise ; and here, ourselves. 
Amid disgust eternal, dwells delight .' 
'Tis approbation strikes the string of joy. 

What wondrous prize has kindled this career, 
Stuns with the din, and chokes us with the dust, 
On life's gay stage, one inch above the grave .' 
The proud run up and down, in quest of eyes ; 
The sensual, in pursuit of something worse j 
The grave, of gold ; the politic, of power; 
And all, of other butterflies, as vain ! 
As eddies draw things frivolous, and light, 
How is man's heart by vanity drawn in ; 
On the swift circle of returning toys, 
Whirl'd, strawlike, round and round,and then inguIPd, 
Where gay delusion darkens to despair ! 

" This is a beaten track."— Is this a track 
Should not be beaten ? Never beat enough, 
Till enough learu'd the truths it would inspire. 
Shall truth be silent, because folly frowns? 
Turn the world's history ; what find we there, 
But fortune's sports, or nature's cruel claims. 
Or woman's artifice, or man's revenge. 
And endless inhumanities on man ? 
Fame's trumpet seldom sounds, but, like the knell, 
It brings bad tidings : how it hourly blows 
Man's misadventures round the listening world ! 
Man is the tale of narrative old time ; 
Sad tale ! which- high as Paradise begins ; 
As if, the toil of travel to delude. 
From stage to stage, in his eternal round, 
The days, his daughters, as they spin our hours 
On fortune's wheel, were accident unthought. 
Oft, in a moment, snaps life's strongest thread. 
Each, in her turn, some tragic story "tells. 
With now and then, a wretched farce between ; 
And fills his chronicle with human woes. 

Time's daughters, true as those of men, deceive ns j 
Not one, but puts some cheat on all mankind : 
While in their father's bosom, not yet ours. 
They flatter our fond hopes ; and promise much 
Of amiable ;buthold him not o'erwise, 
Who dares to trust them ; and laugh round the year 
As still-confiding, still confounded, man, 
Covfiding, thougli confounded ; hoping on, , 
Untaught by trial, unconvinced by proof, 
And ever-looking for the never-seen. 
Life to the last, like harden'd felons, lies ; 
Nor owns itself a cheat, till it expires. 
Its little joys go out by one and one, 
And leave poor man, at length, in perfect night ; 



142 THE COMPLAINT. [Night VIII. 

Night, darker than what, now, involves the pole. 

O THOU, who dost permit these ills to fall 
For gracious ends, and woiildst that man should mourn! 
O THOU, whose hands this goodly fabric framed, 
Who kiiow'st it best, and would that man should know! 
What is this sublunary world ? A vapour ! 
A vapour all it holds ; itself a vapour, 
From the damp bed of chaos, by thy beam 
Exhaled, ordain'd to swim its destined hour 
In ambient air, then melt, and disappear. 
Earth's days are number'd, nor remote her doom j 
As mortal, though less transient than her sons j 
Yet they dote on her, as tiie world and they 
Were both eternal, solid ; THOU, a dream. 

They dote, on what .'' Immortal views apart, 
A region of ontsides! a land of shadows I 
A fruitful field of tlowery promises ! 
A wilderness of joys', perplex'd with doubts, 
And sharp with thorns ! a troubled ocean, spread 
With bold adventurers, their ail on board ; 
No second hope, if here their fortijne frowns ! 
Frown soon it must. Of various rates they sail, 
Of ensigns various ; all alike in this. 
All restless, anxious ; toss'd with hopes and fears, 
In calmest skies ; obnoxious all to storm ; 
And stormy the most general blast of life : 
All bound for happiness ; yet few provide 
The chart of knowledge, pointing where it lies ; 
Or virtue's helm, to shape the course.desiga'd : 
All, more or less, capricious fate lament, 
Now lifted by the tide, and now nesorb'd, 
And further from their wishes than before : 
All more or less, against each other dash, 
To mutual hurt, by gusts of passion driven, 
And suffering more from folly, than from fate. 
Ocean ; thou dreadful and tumultuous home 
Of dangers, at eternal war with man ! 
Death's capital, where most he domineers, 
With all his chosen terrors frowning round 
(Though lately feasted high at Albion's cost,)* 
Wide opening, and loud roaring still for more \ 
Too faithful mirror ! how dost thou reflect 
The melancholy face of human life ! 
The strong resemblance tempts me further still 
And, haply, Britain may be deeper struck , 

By moral truth, in such a mirror seen. 
Which nature holds for ever at her eye. 
Self-flatter'd, unexperienced, high in hope, 

• * Admiral Balchen, &c. 



VIRTUE'S APOLOGV. 143 

When young, with sanguine cheer, and streamers gay, 

We cut our cable, launch into the world, 

And fondly dream each wind and star our friend j 

All, in some darling enterprise embark'd : 

But where is he can fathom its event ? 

Amid a multitude of artless hands. 

Ruin's sure perquisite ! her lawful prize ! 

Some steer aright ; but the black blast blows hard, 

And puffs them wide of hope ; with hearts of proof, 

Full against wind and tide, some win their way ; 

And when strong effort has deserved the port, 

And tugg'd it into view, 'tis won ! 'tis lost ! 

Though strong their oar, still stronger is their fate : 

They strike ; and, while they triumpii,tiiey expire. 

In stress of weather, most; some sink outright; 

O'er them, and o'er their names, the billows close ; 

To-morrow knows not they were ever born. 

Others a short memorial leave behind. 

Like a flag floating, when the bark's ingulfd ; 

It floats a moment, and is seen no more : 

One Cjesar 1 ives : a thousand are forgot. 

How few, beneath auspicious planets born, 

(Darlings of Providence ! fond Fate's elect !) 

With swelling sails make good the promised port, 

With all their wishes freighted ! Yet, even these, 

Freighted with all their wishes, soon complain : 

Frfee from misfortune, not from nature free. 

They still are men ; and when is man secure .' 

As fatal time, as storm ! the rush of years 

fieats down their strength ; their numberless escapes 

In ruin end ; and, now, their proud success 

But plants new terrors on the victors' brow : 

What pain to quit the world, just made their own . 

Their nest so deeply down'd, and built so liigh ! 

Too low they build, wlio build beneath the stars. 

Woe then apart (if woe apart can be 
From mortal man,) and fortune at our nod. 
The gay ! rich ! great ! triumphant ! and august ! 
What are they .^— The most happy (strange to say :) 
Convince me most of human misery : 
What are they? Smiling wretches of to-morrow ! 
More wretched, then, than e'er their slave can be; 
Their treacherous blessings, at the day of need, 
Like other faithless friends, unmask, and sting : 
Then, what provoking indigence in wealth ! 
What aggravated impotence in nower ! \ 

High titles, then, wliaf insult of their pain ! 
If that sole anchor, equal to the waves, 
Immortal iiope ! defies not the rude storm. 
Takes comfort from ilie foaming billow's rage, 
And makes a welcome harbourof the tomb.' 

Is this a sketch of what thv soul admires ' 



144 THE COMPLAINT. [Xight VIII. 

" But here (thou say'st) the miseries of life 
Are huddled in a group. A more distinct 
Survey perhaps miglit bring thee better news." 
Look on life's stages : they spealc plainer still ; 
The plainer they, the deeper wilt thou sigh. 
Look on thy lovely boy ; in him behold 
The best that can befall tlie best on earth ; 
The boy has virtue by his mother's side : 
Yes, on Florello look : a father's heart 
Is tender, tliough the man's is made of stone ; 
The truth, through such a medium seen, may make 
Impression deep, and fondness prove thy friend. 

Florello, lately cast on this rude coast, 
A helpless infant ; now a heedless ciiild : 
To poor Clarissa's throes, thy care succeeds ; 
Care full of love, and yet severe as hate ! 
O'erthy soul's joy how oft thy fondness frowns ! 
Needful austerities his will restrain ; 
As thorns fence in the tender plant from harm. 
As yet, his reason cannot go alone ; 
But asks a sterner nufse to lead it on. 
His little heart is often terrified ; 
The blush of morning, in his cheek, turns pale ; 
Its pearly dew-drop trembles in his eye ; 
His harmless eye ! and drowns an angel there. 
Ah I what avails his innocence ? The task 
Enjoin'd, must discipline his early powers: 
He learns to sigh, ere he is known to sin ; 
Guiltless, and sad ! a wretcli before the fall ! 
How cruel this ! more cruel to forbear. 
Our nature such, with necessary pains. 
We purchase prospects of precarious peace : 
Though not a father, this might steal a sigh 

Suppose him disciplin'd aright (if not, 
'Twill sink our poor account to poorer still j) 
Ripe from the tutor, proud of liberty. 
He leaps enclosures, bounds into the world ! 
The world is taken, after ten years' toil. 
Like ancient Troy; and all its joys his own. 
Alas ! the world's a tutor more severe ; 
Its lessons hard, and ill deserve his pains : 
Unteachincall his virtuous nature taught, 
Or books (fair virtue's advocates !) inspired. 

For who receives him into public life ? 
Men of the world, the terrie-filial breed. 
Welcome the modest stranger to their sphere 
(Which glitter'd long, at distance, in his sight,) 
And, in their hospitable arms enclose : 
Men, who think nought so strong of the romance, 
So rank knight-errant, as a real friend : 
Men, that act up to reason's golden rule, 



VIRTUE'S APOLOGY. 145 

All weakness of affection quite subdued ; 
^len tliat would blusli at being thought sincere, 
And feign, for glory, the few faults they want ; 
That love a lie, where truth would pay as well ; 
As if to them, vice shone l)erown reward. 

Lorenzo I canst thou bear a shocking sight f 
Sucli for Flouello's sake 'twill now appear : 
See the steePd files of season'd veterans, 
Train'd totiie world, in burnish'd falsehood bright ; 
Deep in the fatal stratagems of peace ; 
All soft sensation, in tlie throng, vubb'd off; 
All their keen purpose, in politeness sheath'd ; 
His friends eternal — during interest ; 
His foes implacable — vvlien worth their while ; 
At war with every welfare, but their own ; 
As wise as Lucifer ; — and half as good ; 

And by whom none, butLuciJ'ER, can gain 

Naked, through these (so common fate ordains,) 

Naked of heart, his cruel course he runs, 

Ptung out of all, most amiable in life, 

Prompt truth, and open thought, and smiles unfeign'd 

Affection, as his species, wide diffused ; 

Noble presumptions to mankind's renown ; 

Ingenuous trust, and confidence of love. 

These claims of joy (if mortals joy might claim'* 
Will cost hiui many a sigh ; till time, and pains, 
Fromtlie slow mistress of this school, experience, 
And her assistant, pausing, pale distrust, 
Purchase a dear-bought ciue to lead his youth 
Through serpentine obliquities of life, 
And the dark labyrinth of liuman hearts. 
And happy ! if the clue shall come so cheap: 
For while we learn to fence with public guilt, 
Full ofl we feel its foul contagion too. 
If less than Jieavenly virtue is our guard. 
Thus, a strange kind of cursed necessity 
Brings down the sterling temper of his soul. 
By base alloy, to bear the current stamp, 
Below call'd wisdom ; sinks him into safety ; 
And brands him into credit with the world 3 
Where specious titles dignify disgrace. 
And nature's injuries are arts of life ; 
Where brighter reason prompts to bolder crimes; 
And heavenly talents make infernal hearts; 
Thatunsurmountable extreme of guilt I 

Poor Machiavel ! who lobour'd hard his plan, 
Forgot, that genius needs not go to school ; 
Forgot, that man, without a tutor wise. 
His plan had practised, long before 'twas writ. 
The world's all title-page ; there's no contents : 
The world's all fac« ; the man who eIiows his heart 
K 



146 THE COMI'LALNT. [Night VIL 

Is hooted for his nuditici?, and scorn'd. 

A man 1 knew, who lived upon a smilo ; 

And well it. fed him ; 1k^ look'd plump and fair ; 

While rankest venom foam'd through every vein. 

Lorenzo ! what 1 tell thee, take not ill : 

Living he fawn'd on every fool alive ; 

And, dying, cursed the friend on whom he lived. 

To such proficients, thou art half a saint. 

In foreign realms (for thou hast travell'd far) 

How curious to contemplate two state rooks, 

Studious their nests to feather in a trice ; 

With all the necromantics of their art, 

Playing the game of faces on each other ; 

Making court sweet-meats of their latent gall, 

In foolish hope to steal each other's trust ; 

Both cheating, both exulting, both deceived ; 

And, sometimes, both (kt earth rejoice) undone • 

Their parts we doubt not : but be that their shame : 

Shall man of talents, fit to rule mankind, 

Stoop to mean wiles, tliat would disgrace a fool ; 

And lose the thanks of those few friends they serve .' 

For who can thank the man, he cannot see? 

Why so much cover? It defeats itself. 
, Ye that know all things ! know ye not men's hearts 
Are therefore known, because t!»ey are conceal'd ? 
For vv'hy conceal'd .' — the cause they need not tell. 
I give him joy that's awkward at a lie ; 
Whose feeble nature truth keeps still in awe : 
His incapacity is his renown. 
'Tis great, 'tis manly to disdain disguise ; 
It shows our spirit, or it proves our strength. 
Thou say'st, 'Tis needful. Is it therefore right? 
Howe'er, I grant it some small sign of grace, 
To strain at an excuse. And wouldst thou then 
Escape that cruel need ? Thou may'st, with ease : 
Think no post needful that demands a knave. 
When late our civil helm was shifting hands. 
So P thought : think better if you can. 

But this, how rare ! the public path of life 
is dirty. — Yet, allow that dirt its due, 
It makes the noble mind more noble still : 
The world's no neuter ; it will wound, or save; 
Or virtue quench, or indignation tire. 
You say. The world, well known, will make a man. 
The world, well known will give our hearts to heaver 
Or make us demons, long before we die. 

To show how fair the world, thy mistress, shines, 
Take either part, sure ills attend the choice ; 
Bure, though not equal detriment ensues. 
Not virtue's self is deified on earth ; 
Virtue h;u her relapses, conflicts, foes ; 



VJRTUE'S ArOLOGY. 147 

Foes, that ne'er fail to make her feel their hate. 
Virtue has her peculiar set of pains. 
True ; friends to virtue, last, and least, complain ; 
But if they sigh, can others hope to smile ? 
If wisdom has lier miseries to mourn. 
How can poor folly lead a happy life ? 
And if both suffer, what has earth to boast, 
Where he most happy, who the least laments? 
Where much, much patience, the most envied state, 
And some forgiveness, needs, the best ot friends ? 
For friend, or happy life, who looks not higher. 
Of neither shall he lind the shadow here. 

The world's sworn advocate, without a fee, 
Lorenzo smartly, with a smile, replies : 
" Thus far thy sonj; is right ; and all must own, 
Virtue has her peculiar set of pains. — 
And joys peculiar who to vice denies .' 
If vice it is, with nature to comply : 
If pride, and sense, are so predominant. 
To check, not overcome them, makes a saint : 
Can nature in a plainer voice proclaim 
Pleasure, and glory, the chief good of man ? 

Can pride, and sensuality, rejoice .' 
From purity of thought, all pleasure springs ; 
And, from an humble spirit, all our peace. 
Ambition, pleasure ! let us talk of these : 
Of these, the Porch, and Academy, talk'd ; 
Of these, each following age had much to say : 
Yet, unexhausted, still, the needful theme. 
Who talks of these, to mankind all at once 
He talks ; for where the saint from either free ? 
Are these thy refuge ? — No : these rush upon thee ; 
Thy vitals seize, and, vulture-like, devour. 
I'll try, if I can pluck thee from thy rock, 
Prometheus ! from this barren ball of earth ; 
If reason can unchain thee, thou art free. 

And, first, thy Caucasus, ambition, calls ; 
Mountain of torments! eminence of woes ! 
Of courted woes ! and courted through mistake .' 
'Tis not ambition charms thee ; 'tis a cheat 

Will make thee start, as H at his Moor. 

Dost grasp at greatness ? First, know what it is : 
Think'st thou thy greatness in distinction lies.' 
Not in the feather, wave it e'er so high, 
By fortune stuck, to mark us from the throng, 
Is glory lodged : 'tis lodged in the reverse ; 
In that which joins, in that which equals, all, 
The monarch and his slave ; — " a deathless soul, 
Unbounded prospect, and immortal kin, 
A Father God, and brothers in the skies," 
Elder, indeed, in time ; but less remote 



148 THE COMPLAINT. [Night \ 

In excellence, perhaps, than thought by man : 
Why greater what can fall than what can rise ? 

If still delirious, now, Lorenzo, go; 
And with thy full-blown brothers of the world, 
Throw scorn around thee : cast it on thy slaves ; 
Tby slaves, and equals : how scorn, cast on them, 
Rebounds on thee ! if man is mean, as man. 
Art thou a god ? If fortune makes him so, 
Beware the consequence : a maxim that, 
Which draws a monstrous picture of mankind, 
Where in the drapery, the man is lost ; 
Externals fluttering, and the soul forgot. 
Thy greatest glory when disposed to boast. 
Boast that aloud, in which thy servants share. 

We wisely strip the steed we mean to buy : 
Judge we in their comparisons, of men? 
It nought avails thee, where, but what, thou art ; 
All the distinctions of this little life 
Are quite cutaneous, foreign to the man. 
When through death's streights, earth's subtle ser- 
pent's creep, 
Which wriggle into wealth, or climb renown, 
As crooked Satan the forbidden tree. 
They leave their party-colour'd robe behind, 
All that now glitters, while they rear aloft 
Their brazen crests, and hiss at us below. 
Of fortune's fucus strip them, yet alive ; 
Strip them of body, too ; nay, closer still. 
Away with all, but moral, in their minds ; 
And let, what then remains, impose their name. 
Pronounce th-^m weak, or worthy ; great, or mean, 
How mean that snuff of glory fortune lights. 
And death puts out! Dost thou demand a test, 
A test, at once, infallible, and short, 
Of real greatness? That man greatly lives, 
Whate'er his fate, or fame, who greatly dies ; 
High-flnsh'd with hope, where heroes shall despair 
If this a true criterion, many courts. 
Illustrious, might afford but few grandees. 

The Almighty, from his throne, on earth surveys 
Nought greater, than an honest, humble heart; 
An humble heart. His residence ! pronounced 
His second seat ; and rival to the skies. 
The private path, the secret acts of men, 
If noble, far the noblest of our lives ! 
How far above Lorexzo's glory sits 
Th' illustrious master of a name unknown ? 
Whose worth unrivall'd, and unvvitness'd, loves 
Life's sacred shades, where gods converse with mei 
And peace, beyond the world's conception, smiles ! 
As thou, (now" dark,) before we part, shall see. 



VIRTUE'S APOLbcr. 149 

But thy great soul this skulking glory scorns. 
Lorenzo's sick but when Lorenzo's seen ; 
And, when he shrugs at public business, lies. 
Denied the public eye, the public voice. 
As if he lived on others' breath, he dies. 
Fain would he make the world his pedestal j 
Mankind, the gazers ; the sole figure, he. 
Knows he, that mankind praise against their will, 
And mix as much detraction as they can ? 
Knows he, that faithless fame her whisper has, 
As well as trumpet.^ that his vanity 
Is so much tickled, from not hearing all ; 
Knows this all-knower, from that itch of praise, 
Or, from an itch more sordid, when he shines, 
Taking his country by five hundred ears. 
Senates at once admire him, and despise. 
With modest laughter lining loud applause. 
Which makes the smile more mortal to his fame ? 
His fame which (like the mighty Caisar,) crown'd 
With laurels, in full senate, greatly falls. 
By seeming friends, that honour, and destroy. 
We rise in glory, as we sink in pride : 
Where boasting ends, there dignity begins : 
And yet mistaken beyond all mistake, 
The blind Lorenzo's proud — of being proud j 
And dreams himself ascending in his fall. 

An eminence, though fancied, turns the brain: 
All vice wants hellebore ; but, of all vice. 
Pride loudest calls, and for the largest bowl : 
Because, all other vice unlike, it flies. 
In fact the point in fancy most pursued. 
Who court applause, oblige the world In this ; 
They gratify man's passion to refuse. ^ 
Superior honour,.when assumed, is lost ; 
E'en good men turn banditti, and rejoice, 
Like Kouli-Kan, in plunder of the proud. 

Though somewhat disconcerted, steady still 
To the world's cause, with half a face of joy, 
Lorenzo cries — " Be, then, ambition cast; 
Ambition's dearer far stands unimpeach'd, 
Gay pleasure ! Proud ambition is her slave ; 
For her, he soars at great, and hazards ill ; 
For her, he fights, and bleeds, or overcomes j 
And paves his way with crowns, to reach her smile t 
Who can resist, her charms?"— Or, should ? Lorenzo I 
What mortals shall resist, where angels yield ? 
Pleasure's the mistress of ethereal powers ; 
For her contend the rival gods above : 
Pleasure's the mistress of the world below ; 
And well it is for man, that pleasure charms : 
How would all stagnate, but for pleasure's ray ! 



150 THE COMPLAINT. [Night VIII, 

How would the frozen stream of action cease ! 

What is the pulse of this so busy world ? 

The love of pleasure : that through every vein, 

Throws motion, warmth; and siiutsout death from life 
Thougli various are the tempers of mankind. 

Pleasure's gay family holds all in chains : 

Some most affect the black ; and some, the fair ! 

Some honest pleasure court ; and some, obscene. 

Pleasures obscene are various, as the throng 

Of passions, that can err in human hearts ; 

Mistake their objects, or transgress their bounds. 

Think you there's but one whoredom? Whoredom, all 

But wlien our reason licenses delijiht. 

Dost doubt, Lorenzo ? Thou shalt doubt no more. 

Thy father chides thy gallantries ; yet hugs 

An ugly, common harlot, in the dark j 

A rank adulterer with others' gold ! 

And that hag, vengeance, in a corner, charms. 

Hatred her brothel has, as well as love. 

Where horrid epicures debauch in blood. 

Whate'er the motive, pleasure is the mark : 

For her the black assassin draws his sword ; 

For her, dark statesmen trim their midnight lamp, 

To which no single sacrifice may fall : 

For her, the saint abstains ; the miser starves : 

The Stoic proud, for pleasure, pleasure scorn'd : 

For her, affliction's daughters grief indulge, 

And find or hope, a luxury in tears : 

For her, guilt, shame, toil, danger we defy ; 

And with an aim voluptuous, rush on death. 

Tlius universal her despotic power ! 

And as her empire wide, her praise is jyst. 

J'atron of pleasure ! doter on delight! 
r am thy rival ; pleasure 1 profess ; 

Pleasure the purpose of my gloomy song. 
Pleasure is nought but virtue's gayer name : 
I wrong her still, I rate her wortii too low : 
Virtue the rpot, and pleasure is the flower ; 
And honest Epicurus' foes were fools. 

But this sounds harsh, and gives the wise offence j 
If o'erstrain'd wisdom still retains the name. 
How knits austerity her cloudy brow. 
And blames, as bold and hazardous, the praise 
Of pleasure, to mankind, unpraised, too dear I 
Ye modern Stoics 1 hear my sofl reply ; 
Their senses men will trust : we can't impose ; 
Or if we could, is imposition right ? 
Own honey sweet ; but owning, add this sting 
" When mix'd with poison, it is deadly too." 
Truth never was indebted to a lie. 
Is nought but virtue to be praised, as good .' 



VIRTUE'S APOLOGY. 151 

Why then is liealth preferr'd before disease? 
What nature loves is good, without our leave. 
And wliere no future drawback cries, " Beware ;" 
Pleasure, thou£jh not from virtue, should prevail. 
»Tis balm to lifo, and ciratitude to Heaven ; 
How cold our thanks for bounties unenjoy'd ! 
The love of pleasure is man's eldest-born, 
Born in Jiis cradle, living to his tomb ; 
Wisdom, her younger sister, though more grave, • 
W^as meant to minister, and not to mar. 
Imperial pleasure, queen of human l)earts. 

Lorenzo ! thou, her majesty's renown'd, 
Though uncoift, counsel, learned in the world ! 
Whotliink'st thyself a Murray, with disdain 
May'st look on me. Yet, my Demosthenes I 
Canst thou plead pleasure's cause as well as I ? 
Know 'st thou her nature, purpose, parentage ? 
Attend my song, and thou shalt koow them all j 
And know thy*elf : and know thyself to be 
(Strange truth !) the most abstemious man alive. 
Tell not Calista : .she will lau^h thee dead ; 

Or send thee to her hermitage with L , 

Absurd pre.sumption ! thou who never knew'st 
A serious thought ? shalt thou dare dream of joy? 
IS'o man e'er found a happy life by chance ; 
Or yawn'd it into being, with a wish ; 
Or with the snout of groveling appetite, 
E'er smelt it out, and grubb'd it from the dirt. 
An art it is, and must be learn'd ; and learn'd 
W^ith unremitting ertbrt,or be lost ; 
And leave us perfect blockheads, in our bliss. 
The clouds may drop down titles and estates ; 
Wealth may seek us: but wisdom may be sought} 
Sought before all ; but (how unlike all else 
We seek on earth !) 'tis never sought in vain. 

First pleasure's birth,rise,strengtii, and grandeur, see 
Brought forth by wisdom, luirsed by discipline, 
By patience taught, by perseverance crown'd, 
Siic rears her head majestic ; round lier throne, 
Erected in the bosom of the just. 
Each virtue, listed, forms her manly guard. 
For what are virtues ? (formidable name !) 
What but the fountain, or defence of joy ? 
Why thcu, commanded ! Need mankind commands 
At once to merit, and to make, their bliss ? — 
Great Legislator : scarce so great, as kind I 
If n)en are rational, and love delight. 
Thy gracious law but llatters human choice : 
Jn the transgression lies llie penally ; 
And lliey the most indiUge, who most obey, 



153 THE COMPLAINT [Xioht VIII. 

Of pleasure, next, the fiwl, cause explore ; 
Its mighty purpose, its important end. 
Not to turn human brutal, but to build 
Divine on human, pleasure came from heaven. 
In aid to ren-;on was the goddess sent ; 
To call up all its strength by such a charm. 
Pleasure lirst succours virtue 5 in return, 
Virtue gives pleasure an eternal reign. 
What, but the pleasure of food, friendship, faitb, 
Supports life natural, civil, and divine ? 
'Tis from the pleasure of repast, we live ; 
'Tis from the pleasure of applause, we please ; 
'Tis from the pleasure of belief, we pray ; 
{All prayer would cease, if unbelieved the prize :) 
It serves ourselves, our species, and our God ; 
And to serve more, is past the sphere of man. 
Glide, then, forever, pleasure's sacred stream! 
Through Eden as Euphrates ran, it runs, 
And fosters every growth of happy life ; 
Makes anew Eden where it flows : — but such 
As must be lost, Lorenzo, by thy fall. 

" What mean 1 by thy fall .'" Thou 'It shortly see^ 
While pleasure's nature is at large display'd j 
Already sung her origin, and ends. 
Those glorious ends, by kind, or by degree, 
When pleasure violates, 'tis then a vice, 
A vengeance too j it hastens into pain. 
From due refreshment, life, health, reason, joy ; 
From wild excess, pain, grief, distraction, death ; 
Heaven's justice this proclaims, and that her love. 
What greater evil can I wish my foe, 
Than his full draught of pleasure, from a cask 
Unbroach'd by just authority, unguaged 
By temperance, by reason unrefined .' 
A thousand d;emons lurk within the lee. 
Heaven, others, and ourselves .' uninjured these, 
Drink deep ; the deeper, then, the more divine : 
Angels are angels, from indulgence there ; 
'Tis unrepenting pleasure makes a god. 

Dost think thyself a god from other joys ? 
A victim, rather '. sliortly sure to bleed. fail .' 

The wrong must mourn : can Heaven's appointments 
Can man outwit Omnipotence ; strike out 
A self-wrought happiness unmeant by Him 
Who made us, and the world we would e.njoy i* 
Who forms an instrument, ordains from'wheneo 
Its dissonance, or harmony, shall rise. 
Heaven bid the soul this mortal frame inspire ; 
Bid virtue's ray divine inspire the soul 
With unprecarious flows of vital joy: 
And, without breathing, man as well might hope 



VIRTUE'S APOLOGY. 153 

For life, as without piety, for peace. 

"Is virtue, thtn, and piety the same ?" 
No ; piety is more ; 'Tis virtue's source ; 
Mother of every worth, as that, of joy. 
Men of the world this doctrine ill digest j 
They smile at ])iety ; yet boast uloud 
Good will to men ; nor know they strive to part 
What nature joins; and thus confute themselves. 
With piety begins all good on earth : 
*Tis the first-born of rationality. 
Conscience, her first law broken, wounded lies ; 
Enfeebled, lifeless, impotent to good ; 
A feign'd affection bounds her utmost power. 
Sonie.S\'e can't love, but for the Almighty's sake : 
A foe to God, was ne'er true friend to man 3 
Some sinister intent taints all he dors ; 
And, in his kindest actions, he's unkind. 

On piety, humanity is built ; 
And, on humanity, much happiness j 
And yet still more on piety itself. 
A soul in commerce with her God, is heaven ; 
Feels not the tumults and the shocks of life, 
The whirls of passion, and the strokes of heart. 
A Deity believed, is joy begun ; 
A Deity adored, is joy advanced ; 
A Deity beloved, is joy matured. - 

Each branch of piety delight inspires : 
Faith builds a bridge from this world to the next, 
O'er death's dark gulf, and all its horror hides : 
Praise, the sweet exhalation of our joy. 
That joy exalts, and makes it sweeter still : 
Prayer ardent opens heaven, lets down a stream 
Of glory on the consecrated hour 
Of man, in audience with the Deity. 
Who worships the Great God, that instant joins 
The first in heaven, and sets his foot on hell. 

Lorenzo ! when wast thou at church before.' 
Thou think'stthe service long: but is it just? 
Though just, unwelcome : thou hadst rather tread 
Unhallow'd ground ; the muse to win thine ear. 
Must take an air less solemn. She complies. 
Good conscience ! at the sound the world retires j 
Verse disaffects it, and Lorenzo smiles : 
Yet has she her seraglio full of charms ; 
And such as ag« shall heighten, not impair. 
Art thou dejected ? Is fliy mind o'ercast? 
Amid her fair ones, thou the fairest choose, 
To chase thy gloom. — " Go, fix some weighty fnith • 
Chain down some passion ; do some generous good •' 
Teach ignorance to see, or grief to smile ; ' 

Correct tby friend \ befriend thy greatest foe ; 



J54 THE COMPLAINT. [Nigut Vllf. 

Or with warm heart, and confidence divine, 
Spring up, and lay strong hold on Him wlio made thee." 
Thy gloom is scattered, sprightly spirits flow ; 
Though wither'd is thy vine, and harp unstrung. 

Dost call the bowl, the viol, and the dance, 
Loud mirth, mad laughter.'' wretched comforters ! 
Physicians! more than half of thy disease. 
Laughter, though never censured yet as sin 
(Pardon a thought that only seems severe,) 
Is half immoral. Is it much indulged ? 
By venting spleen, or dissipating thought, 
ft shows a scorner, or it makes a fool ; 
And sins, as Jiurting others or ourselves. 
'Tis pride, or emptiness, applies the straw, 
That tickles little minds to mirth effuse ; 
Of grief approaching, the portentous sign ! 
The house of laughter makes a house of woe. 
A man triumphant is a monstrous sight ; 
A man dejected is a sigTit as mean. 
What cause for triumpli, where such ills abound f 
What for dejection, where presides a Power, 
Who calls us into being to be bless'd ? 
So grieve, as conscious, grief may rise to joy ; 
So joy as conscious, joy to grief may fall. 
Most true, a wise man never will be sad ; 
But neither will sonorous, bubbling mirth, 
A shallow stream of happiness betray : 
Too happy to be sportive, lie's serene. 

Yet wouldst thou laugh (but at thy own expense,) 
This counsel strange should I presume to give — 
" Retire, and read thy Bible, to be gay." 
There truths abound of sovereign aid to peace ; 
Ah ! do not prize them less, because inspired, 
As thou, and thine, are apt and proud to do. 
If not inspired, that pregnant page liad stood, 
Time's treasure, and the wonder of the wise I 
Thou think'st perhaps, thy soul alone at stake ; 
Alas ! — should men mistake thee for a fool ; 
What man of taste for genius, wisdom, truth, 
Though tender of thy fame, could interpose? 
Believe me, sense, here, acts a double part, 
And the true critic is a Christian too. 

But these, thou think'st, are gloomy paths to joy. 
True joy in sunshine ne'er was found at first ; 
They, first themselves offend, who greatly please j 
And travel only gives us sound repose. 
Heaven sells all pleasure ; effort is the price : 
The joys of conquest, are the joys of man ; 
And glory the victorious laurel spreads 
O'er pleasure's pure perpetual, placid stream. 

There is a time, when toil niuat be preferr'd, 



VIRTUE'S APOLOGY. 15S 

Or joy, by mis-timed fondness, is undone. 

A man of pleasure, is a man of pains. 

Thou wilt not take the trouble to be bless'^. 

False joys, indeed, are born from want of thought; 

From thought's full bent, and energy, the true ; 

And that demands a mind in equal poise. 

Remote from gloomy grief, and glaringjoy. 

Much joy not only s[)eaks small happiness, 

But happiness that shortly must expire. 

Can joy, unbottom'd in reflection, stand f 

And, in a tempest, can reflection live .'' 

Can joy, like thine, secure itself an hour .'' 

Can joy like thine, meet accident unshock'd ? 

Or ope the door to honest poverty i 

Or talk with threatening death, and not turn pale ? 

In such a world, and such a nature, these 

Are needful fundamentals of delight : 

These fundamentals give delight indeed : 

Delight, pure, delicate, and durable-; 

Delight, unshaken, masculine, divine ; 

A constant, and a sound, but serious joy. 

Is joy the daughter of severity .'' 
It is : — yet far my doctrine from severe. 
" Rejoice for ever :" it becomes a man ; 
Exalts, and sets him nearer to the gods. 
" Rejoice for ever*" nature cries, " Rejoice ;" 
And drinks to man in her nectareous cup, 
Alix'd upof delicates for every sense ; 
To the great Founder of the bounteous feast, 
Drinks glory, gratitude, eternal praise ; 
And he that will not pledge her, is a churl. 
Ill firmly to support, cood fully taste. 
Is the whole science'of felicity. 
Yet sparing pledge ; her bowl is not the best 
Mankind can boast.—" A rational repast; 
Exertion, vigilance, a mind in arms, 
A military discipline of thousht, 
To foil temptation in the doubtful field ; 
And ever- waking ardour for the right." 
'Tis these, first, give, then guard, a cheerful heart 
Nought that is right, think little ; well aware, 
What reason bids, God bid ; by his command 
How agsrandized, the smallest thing we do; , 

Thus, nothing is insipid to the wise : 
To thee, insipid all, but what is mad ; 
Joys season'd high, and tasting strong of guilt. 

" Mad ! (thou repliest, with indignation fired) 
Of ancient sages [)roud to tread the steps, 
I follow nature."— Follow nafure still, • 

But look it be thine own. Is conscience, then, 
No part of natqre .' Is she not supreme .' 



156 THE COMPLAINT. [Night VIU. 

Thou regicide ! O raise her from the dead ! 
Tlien, follow nature ; and resemble God. 

When, spitQ of conscience, pleasure is pursued, 
Man's nature is unnaturally pleased : 
And what's unnatural, is painful too 
At intervals, and must disgust e'en thee ! 
The fact thou know'st ; but not, perhaps, the cause. 
Virtue's foundations with the world's were laid ; 
Heaven niix'd her with our make, and twisted close 
Her sacred interests with the strings of life. 
Who breaks her awful mandate, shocks himself, 
His better self : and is it greater pain, 
Our soul should murmur, or our dust repine ? 
And one, in their eternal war, must bleed. • 

If one must suffer, which should least be spared? 
The pains of mind surpass the pains of sense : 
Ask, th n, the gout, what torment is in guilt. 
The joys of sense to mental joys are mean : 
Sense on the present only feeds ; the soul 
On past and future, forages for joy. 
'Tis hers, by retrospect, through time to range ; 
And forward time's great sequel to survey. 
Could human courts take vengeance on the mind, 
Axes might rust, and racks, and gibbets, fall : 
Guard, then, thy mind, and leave the rest to fate. 

Lorenzo ! w It thou never be a man .' 
The man is dead, who for the body lives, 
Lured by the beating of his pulse, to list 
With every lust, that wars against his peace, 
And sets him quite at variance with himself. 
Thyself, first, know ; then love : a self there is 
Of virtue fond, that kindles at her charms. 
A self there is, as fond of every vice, 
While every virtue wounds it to the heart : 
Humility degrades it, justice robs, 
Bless'd bounty beggars it, fair truth betrays, 
And godlike magnanimity destroys. 
This self, when riyal to the former, scorn : 
When not in competition, kindly treat, 
Defend it, feed it : — but when virtue bids, 
Toss it, or to the fowls, or to the flames. 
And why ? 'Tis love of pleasure bids thee bleed : 
Comply, or own self-love extinct, or blind. 

For what is vice ? Self-love in a mistake : 
A poor blind merchant buying joys too dear. 
And virtue, what.' 'Tis self-love in her wits, 
(iuite skilful in the market of delight. 
Self-love's good sense is Jove of that dread Power^ 
From whom herself, and all she can enjoy. 
Other self-love is but disguised self-hate 3 
More mortal than the malice of our foes ; 



157 TISTUE'S APOLOGY. 

A self-hafe, now, scarce felt ; then felt full ?ore, 
When beins, cursed ; extinction, loud implored; 
And every thing preferr'd to what we are. • 

Yet this 5elf love Lorenzo makes his choice ; 
And, in this choice triumphant, boasts of joy. 
How is his want of happiness betray'd, 
By disaffection to the present hour ! 
Imagination wanders far afield : 
The future pleases : why .' The present pains. — 
" But that's a secret." Yes, which all men know ; 
And kno%v from thee, discover'd unawares. 
Thy ceaseless agitation, restless roll 
From cheat to cheat, impatient of a pause j 
What is it .'— 'Tis the cradle of the soul, 
From instinct sent, to rock her in disease, 
Which her physician, reason, will not cure. 
A poor expedient I yet thy best ; and while 
It mitigates thy pain, it owns it too. 

Such are LoREr«zo's wretched remedies! 
The weak have remedies ; the wise have joys. 
Superior wisdom is superior bliss. 
And what sure mark distinsuishes the wise ? 
Consistent wisdom ever wills the same 3 
Thy fickle wish is ever on the wing. 
Sick of herself, is folly's character ; 
As wisdom's is, a modest self applause. 
A change of evils is thy good supreme ; 
Nor, but in motion, cansf thou find thy rest. 
Man's greatest strength is shown in standing etill 
The first sure syniptoij of a mind in health, 
Is rest of heart, and pleasure felt at home. 
False pleasure from abroad her joys imports: 
Rich from within, and self-sustain'd, the true. 
The true is fix'd, and solid as a rock ; 
Slipper}' the false, and tossing as the wave. 
This, a wild wanderer, on earth, like Cain ; 
That, like the fabled, self-enamour'd boy, 
Home-contemplation her supreme delight : 
She dreads an interruption from without, 
Siiiit with her own conditioii ; and the more 
Intense she gazes, still it charms the more. 

No man is happy, tilj he tliinks on earth 
There breathes not a more happy than himself: 
Then envy difs,and love o'erflows on all ; 
And loveo'erflowing, makes an angel here. 
Such angels, all, entitled to repose 
On Himvvho governs fate. Though tempest frowns, 
Though nature shakes, how soft to lean on Heaven ! 
To lean on Him, on whom archangels lean I 
With inward eyes, and silent as the grave, 
They stand, collecting ever>' beam of liiought. 



158 THE COMPLAINT. [Night VIII. 

Till their hearts kindle with divine delight : 
For all their thoughts, like angels seen of old 
In Israel's dream, come from, and go to, heaven. 
Hence, are they studious of sequester'd scenes; 
While noise, and dissipation, comfort thee. 

Were all men happy, revellings would cease, 
That opiate for inquietude within. 
Lorenzo ! never man was truly bless'd, 
But it composed, and gave him such a cast, 
As folly might mistake for want of joy. 
A cast unlike the triumph of the proud ; 
A modest aspect, and a smile at heart. 
O for a joy from thy PkiLANOKR's spring ! 
A spring perennial, rising in the breast, 
And permanent as pure ! no ttabid stream 
Of rapturous exultation, swelling high ; 
Which, like land floods, impetuous pour awhile, 
Then sink at once, and leave us in the mire. 
What does the man, who transient joy prefers ? 
What, but prefer the bubbles to the stream ? 

Vain are all sudden sallies of delight ; 
Convulsions of a weak, distemper'd joy. 
Joy's a fix'd state ; a tenure, not a start. 
Bliss there is none, hut unprecarious bliss : 
That is the gem ; sell all, and purchase that. 
Why go a begging to contingencies, 
Not gain'd with ease, nor safely loved, if gain'd ? 
At good fortuitous, draw back, and pause ; 
Suspect it : what thou canst ensure, enjoy ; 
And nought but what thou gi»est thyself, is sure. 
Reason perpetuates joy that reason gives. 
And makes it as immortal as herself: ^ 

To mortals, nought immortal, but their worth. 

Worth, conscious worth ! should absolutely reign ; 
And other joys ask leave for their approach ; 
Nor, unexamin'd, ever leave obtain. 
Thou art all anarchy ; a mob of joys 
Wage war, and perish in intestine broils : 
Not the least promise of internal peace ! 
No bosom comfort, or unborrow'd bliss ! 
Thy thoughts are vagabonds ; all outward-bound, 
'Jlid sands, and rocks,and storms to cruise for pleasure ; 
If gain'd, dear bought ; and better miss'd than gain'd: 
Much pain must expiate, what much pain procured. 
Fancy, and sense, from an infected shore 
Thy cargo bring; and pestilence the prize. 
Then, such thy thirst, (insatiable ll)irst ! 
By fond indulL'ence but inflamed the more .') 
Fancy still cruises, when poor sense is tired. 

Imagination is the Paphian shop. 
Where feeble happiness, like VoLCAtf, lame, 



VlllTUE'S APOLOGY. 159 

Bids foul ideas, in fheir dark recess, 

And hot as liell (which kindled the black fires,) 

With wanton art, those fatal arrows form, 

Whicli murder all thy time, health, wealth, and fame. 

Wouldst thou receive them, other thoughts there arc^ 

On an;;el wing descending from above, 

Which these, with art divine, would counterwork, 

And form celestial armour for thy peace. 

In this is seen imacination's guilt: 
But who can count her follies ? She betrays thee, 
To Uiink in grandeur there is something great. 
For works of curious art, and ancient fame, 
Thy genius hungers, elegantly pain'd ; 
And foreign climes must cater for thy taste. 
Hence, what disaster .'—Though the price was paid, 
Tliat persecuting priest, the Turk of Rome, 
Whose foot (ye gods !) though cloven, must be kiss'd, 
Detain'd thy dinner on the Latian shore ; 
(Such is the fate of honest Protestants !) 
And poor magnificence is starved to death. 
Hence just resentment, indignation, ire! — 
Be pacified : if outward things are great, 
'Tis magnanimity great things to scorn ; 
Pompous expenses, and parades august, 
And courts, that insalubrious soil to peace. 
True happiness ne'er enter'd at an eye : 
True happiness resides in things unseen. 
No smiles of fortune ever bless'd the bad, 
Nor can her frowns' rob innocence of joys ; 
That jewel wanting, triple crowns are poor : 
So tell his Holiness, and be revenged. 

Pleasure, we both agree, is man's chief good : 
Our only contest, what deserves the name. 
Give pleasnres name to nought, but what has pass'd 
Th' authentic seal of reason (which, like Vorkk, 
Demurs on what it passes ;) and defies 
The tooth of time ; when past, a pleasure Still ; 
Dearer on trial, the lovelier for its age, 
And doubly to he prized, as it,/)ron)otes 
Our future, while it forms our present, joy. 
Some joys the future overcast ; and some 
Throw all their beams that way, and gild the tomb. 
Some joys endear eternity ; some give 
Abhorr'd annihilation dreadful charms. 
Are rival joys contending for thy choice ? 
Consult thy whole existence, aiid be safe: 
That oracle will put all doubt to flight. 
Short is the lesson though my lecture long: 
Be good — and let Heaven answer for the rest. 

Yet, with a sigh o'er all mankind, I grant, 
In thisotir day of proof, our land of hope, 



160 THE COMPLAINT. [XroHTVlII. 

The good man has his clouds that intervene ; 

Clouds, that obscure his sublunary day, 

But never conquer : e'en the best must own, 

Patience, and resignation,, are the pillars 

Of human peace on earth. The pillars, these : 

But those of SetH not more remote from thee, 

Till tliis heroic lesson thou hast learn'd. 

To frown at pleasure, and to smile in pain. 

Fired at the prospect of unclouded bliss. 

Heaven in reversion, like the sun, as yet 

Beneath th' horizon, cheers us in the world : 9 

It sheds on souls susceptible of light, 

The ginriousdawn of our eternal day. 

" This {says Lorknzo) is a fair haranj^ue : 
But, can harangues blow back strong nature's stream ; 
Or stem the tide Heaven pushes through our veins, 
Which sweeps away man's impotent resolves, 
And lays his labour level with the world ?" 

Themselves men make their comment on mankind 
And think nought is, but what they find at home: 
Thus weakness to chimaera turns the truth. 
Nothing romantic has the muse prescribed. 
Above* Lorenzo saw the man of earth, 
The mortal man ; and wretched was the sight 5 
To balance that, to comfort, and exalt. 
Now see the man immortal ; him, I mean, 
Who lives as such ; whose heart, full bent on heaven, 
Leans all tliat way, his bias to the stars.' 
The world's dark shades, in contrast set, shall raise 
His lustre more ; though bright, without a foil : 
Observe his awful portrait, and admire j 
Nor stop at wonder : imitate, and live. 

Some annel guide my pencil, while 1 draw, 
What nothing less than angel can exceed, ' 
A man on earth devoted to the skies ; 
Like ships in sea, while in, above the world. 

With aspect mild, and elevated eye. 
Behold him seated on amount serene. 
Above the fogs of sense, and passion's storm j 
All tlie black cares, and ttimults, of this life. 
Like harmless thunders, breaking at his feet, 
Excite his pity, not impair his peace. 
Earth's genuine sons, the sceptred, and the slave, 
A mingled mob ! a wandering herd ! he sees, 
Bevvilder'd in the vale ; in all unlike ! 
His full reverse in all ! What higher praise? 
What stronger demonstration of the right ? 

The present, all their care ; the future, his. 
When public welfare calls, or private want, 

* In a former Night. 



VIRTUE'S APOL,uor. 



161 



They give to fame; his bounty he conceals. 
Their virtues varnish nature ; his, exalt. 
M an it i lid's esteem they court ; and lie, his own 
Theirs, tlie wild chase of false felicities ; 
His, the composed possession of the true. 
Alike throughout is his consistent peace ; 
All of one colour, and an even thread ; 
While party-coiour'd shreds of happiness, 
With hideous gaps between, patch up for them 
A madman's robe ; each putf of fortune blows 
The tatters by, and shows their nakedness. 

He sees with other eyes than theirs. Where they 
Behold a sun, he spies a Deity : 
What makes them only smile, makes him adore. 
Where they see mountains, he but atoms sees : 
An empire, in his balance, weighs a grain. 
They tilings terrestrial worship, as divine ; 
His hopes immortal blow them by, as dust. 
That dims his sight, and shortens his survey, 
Which longs, in infinite, to lose all bound. 

Titles and honours (if they prove his fate,) 

He lays aside, to find his dignity: 

No dignity they find in ought besides. 

They triumph in externals (which conceal 

Wall's real glory) proud of an eclipse. 

Himself too much he prizes to be proud, 

And nothing thinks so great in man, as man. 

Too dear he holds his interest, to neglect 

Another's weiCare, or his right invade : 

Their interest like a lion, lives on prey. 

They kindle at the shadow of a wrong': 

■Wrong he sustains with temper, looks on heaven, 

Nor stoops to think his injurer his foe ; 

Noiiglit, but what wounds his virtue, wounds his peace. 

A cover'd heart their character defends ; 

A cover'd heart denies him half his praise. 

\\' ith nakedness his innocence agrees : 

AVhile their broad foliage testifies their fall. 

Their no joys end. where his full feast begins ; 

His joys create, theirs murder future bliss. 

To triumph in existence, his alone ; 

And his alone, triumphantly to think 

His true existence is not yet begun. 

His glorious course, was yesterday, complete; 

Death, then, was welcome ; yet life still is sweet. 
But nothing charms Lorenzo like the firm. 

Undaunted breast. — And vviiose is that high praise ? 

They yield to pleasure, though they danger brave, 

And show no fortitude, but in the field : 

If there they show it, 'tis for glory shown ; 

Nor willtiiat cordial always man their hearts. 
L 



162 THE COMPLAINT. [Night VIII. 

A cordial his sustains, that cannot fail : 
By pleasure unsubdued, unbi:oke by pain, 
He shares in that Omnipotence he trusts,; 
All bearing, all attempting, till he tklls^ 
And when he falls, writes Vici on his shield : 
Prom magnanimity, all fear above ; 
From nobler recompense, above applause ; 
Which owes to man's short out-look all its charms. 

Backward to credit what he never felt, 
Lorenzo cries, — " Where shines this miracle ? 
From what root rises this immortal man ?" 
A root that grows not in Lorenzo's ground ; 
The root dissect, nor wonder at tlie flower. 

He follows nature (not like thee,*) and shows U3 
An uninverted system of a man. 
His appetite wears reason's golden chain, 
And finds, in due restraint, its luxury. 
His passion, like an eagle well reclaim'd, 
Is taught to fly at naught, hut infinite. 
Patient his hope, unanxious is his care. 
His caution fearless, and his grief (if grief 
The gods ordain) a stra!nger to despair. 
And why ? — Because afl^ection, more than meet. 
His wisdom leaves not disengaged from heaven. 
Those secondary goods that smile on earth, 
He, loving in proportion, loves in peace. 
They most the world enjoy, who least admire. 
His understanding 'scapes the common cloud 
Of fumes, arising from a boiling breast. 
His head is clear, because his heart is cool. 

By worldly competitions uninflamed. 
The moderate movements of his soul admit 

Distinct ideas, and matured debate, 

An eye impartial, and an even scale ; 

Whence judgment sound, and unrepenting choice. 

Thus, in a double sense, the good are wise ; 

On its own dunghill, wiser than the world. 

What, then, the world ? It must be doubly weak : 

Strange truth ! as soon would they believe their creed. 
Yet thus it is ; nor otherwise can be : 

So far from aught romantic, what I sing. 

Bliss has no being, virtue has no strength, 

But from the prospect of immortal life. 

AVho think earth all, or (what weighs just the same) 

Who care no further, must prize what it yields ; 

Fond of its fancies, proud of its parades. 

Who thinks earth nothing, can't its charms admire ; 

He can't a foe, though most malignant, hate. 

Because that hate would prove his greater foe. 

* See page 163, line 45, 



VIRTUE'S APOLOGY. 163 

'Tis hard for them (yet who so loudly boast 
Good wiJI to men ?)to love their dearest friend : 
For, may not he invade their good supreme, 
Where the least jealousy turns lov? to gall ? 
All shines to them that for a season shines : 
Each act, each thought, he questions, " What its 

weight, 
Its colour what, a thousand ages hence ? 
And what it there appears, he deems itnovy. 
Hence, pure are the recesses of his soul. 
The godlike man has nothing to conceal. 
His virtue constitutionally deep, 
His habit's firmness, and affection's flame : 
Angels, allied, descend to feed the fire ; 
And death, which others slays, makes him a god. 

And now, Lorknzo, bigot of this world ! 
Wont to disdain poor bigots caught by Heaven • 
Stand by thy scorn, and be reduced to nought : 
For what art thou .'— 'I'liou boaster ! while thy glare 
Thy gaudy grandeur, and mere worldly worth, 
Like a broad mist, at distance, strikes us most j 
And, like a mist, is nothing when at hand ; 
His merit, like a mountain, on approach, 
Swells more, and rises nearer to the skies, 
By promise now, and by possession, soon 
(Too soon, too much, it cannot be) his own. 

B'roiM this thy just annihilation rise, 
Lorenzo ! rise to something, by reply. 
The world, thy client, listens, and expects ; 
And longs to crown thee with immortal praise. 
Canst thou be silent ? No ; for wit is thine ; 
And wit talks most, when least she has to say, 
And reason interrupts not her career. 
She'll say — That mists above the mountains rise j 
And with a thousand pleasantries, amuse : 
She'll sparkle, puzzle, flutter, rise like dust, 
And fly conviction, in the dust she raised. 

Wit, how delicious to man's dainty taste I 
'Tis precious, as the vehicle of sense ; 
But, as its substitute, a dire disease. 
Pernicious talent ! flatter'd by the world. 
By the blind world, which thinks the talent rare. 
Wisdom is rare, Lorenzo ! wit abounds : 
Passion can give it ; sometimes wine inspires 
The lucky lash ; and madness rarely fails. 
Wiiatever cause the spirit strongly stirs, 
Confers the bays, and rivals thy renown. 
For thy renown, twere well was this the worst j 
Chanc e often hits it ; and, to pique thee more, 
See, dulness, blundering on vivacities, 
Shakes her sage head at the calamity, 



164 THE COxMPLAINT. [Night VIII. 

Which has exposed, and let her down to thee. 

But wisdom, awful wisdom ! which inspects, 

Discerns, compares, weighs, separates, infers, 

Seizes the ri£;ht, and holds it to the last ; 

How rare ! In senates, synods, sought in vain j 

Or, if there found, 'tis sacred to the few ; 

While a lewd prostitute to multitudes. 

Frequent, as fatal, wit. In civil life. 

Wit makes an enterprizer ; sense, a man : 

Wit hates authority ; commotion loves, 

And thinks herself the lightning of the storm. 

In states, 'tis dangerous ! in religion, death. 

Shall wit turn Christian, when the dull believe? 

Sense is our helmet, wit is but the plume ; 

The plume exposes, 'tis our helmet saves. 

Sense is the diamond, weighty, solid, sound : 

When cut by wit, it casts a brighter beam ; 

Yet, wit apart, it is a diamond still. 

Wit, widow'd of good sense is worse than nought ; 

It hoists more sail to run against a rock. 

Thus, a half-CHESTERFiELD is quite a fool ; 

Whom dull fools scorn, and bless their want of wit. 

How ruinous the rock [ warn thee shun, 
Where Sirens sit, to sing thee to thy fate I 
A joy, which in our reason bears no part, 
Is but a sorrow, tickling, ere it stings. 
Let not the cooings of the world allure thee ; 
Which of her lovers ever found her true .'' 
Happy ! of this bad world who little know ! — 
And yet, we much must know her, to be safe. 
To know the world, not love her, is thy point : 
She gives but little, nor that little, long. 
There is, 1 grant, a triumph of the pulse ; 
A dance of spirits, a mere froth of joy, 
Our thoughtless agitation's idle child, 
That mantles high, that sparkles, and expires, 
Leaving the soul more vapid than before ; 
An animal ovation ; such as holds 
No commerce with our reason, but stibsista 
On juices, through the well-toned tubes well strain'd 
A nice machine ! scarce ever tuned aright ; 
And when it jars— thy Sirens sing no more, 
Thy dance is done ; the demi-god is thrown 
(Short apotheosis !) beneath the man. 
In coward gloom immersed, or fell despair. 

Art thou yet dull enough despair to dread, 
And startle at destruction? If thon art. 
Accept a buckler, take it to the field ; — 
(A field of battle is this mortal life !) 
When danger threatens, lay it on thy heart ; 
A single sentence, proof against the wcwld ! 



VIRTUE'S APOLOGY. 165 

*' Soul, body, fortune! every good pertains 
To-one of these : but prize not all alike: 
The goods of fortune to thy body's health, 
llody to soul, and soul submit to God." 
VVouIdst thou build lasting happiness ? do this : 
Th' inverted pyramid can never stand. 

Is this truth doubtful ? It outshines the sun ; 
Nay, the sun shines not, but to show us this, 
The single lesson of mankind on earth. 
And yet — Yet, what ? No news ! mankind is mad ! 
Such mighty numbers list against the right, 
(And what can't numbers, vvhen bewitch'd, achieve !j 
They talk themselves to sometliing like belief. 
That all earth's joys are theirs : As Athens' fool 
Grinn'd from the port, on every sail his own. 

They grin ; but wherefore .'and how long the laugh.' 
Half ignorance, their mirth ; and half, a lie : 
To cheat the world, and cheat themselves, they smile. 
Hard either task ! The most abandon'd own, 
That others, if abandon'd, are undone : 
Tlien, for themselves, tlie moment reason wakes 
(And Providence denies it long repose,) 
O how laborious is their gaiety ! 
They scarce.can swallow their ebullient spleen, 
Scarce muster patience to support the farce, 
And pump sad laughter till the curtain falls. 
Scarce, did I say ? Some cannot sit it out ; 
Oft their own daring hands the curtain draw, 
And show us what their joy, by their despair. 

The clotted hair ! gored breast ! blaspheming eye ! 
Its impious fury still alive in death ! 
Shut, shut the shocking scenes. — But Heaven denies 
A cover to such guilt ; and so should man. 
Look round, Lorenzo ! see the reeking blade, 
Th' envenom'd phi.il, and the fatal ball ; 
The strangling cord, and suffocating stream ; 
The loathsome rottenness, and foul decays 
From raging riot, (slower suicides ;) 
And pride in these, more execrable still ! 
How horrid all to thought ! — but liorrors, these, 
That vouch the truth ; and aid my feeble Song. 

From vice, sense, fancy, no man can be bless'd : 
Bliss is too great, to lodge within an hour. 
When an immortal being aims at bliss. 
Duration is essential to the name. 
O for a joy from reason ! joy from that. 
Which makes man, man ; and, exercised aright, 
Will make him more : a bounteous joy ! that gives, 
And promises ; that weaves, with art divine, 
The richest prospect into present peace : 
A joy ambitious I joy in common held 



165 THE COMPLAI&JT. [Night VII I. 

With thrones ethereal, and their greater far : 
A joy high-privileged from chance, time, death ! 
A joy, which death shall double, judgment crown ! 
Crown 'd higher, and still higher, at each stage, 
Through bless'd eternity's long day ; yet still, 
Not more remote from sorrow, than from Him, 
Whose lavish hand, whose love stupendous, pours 
So much of Deity on guilty dust. 
There, O my Lucia I may 1 meet thee there, 
Where, not thy presence can improve my bliss ! 

Affects not this the sages of the world ? 
Can nought atfect them, but what fools them too ? 
Eternity, depending on an hour. 

Makes serious thought man's wisdom, joy, and praise. 
Nor need you blush (though sometimes your designs 
May shun the light) at your designs on heaven : * 
Sole point ! where over-bashful is your blame. 
Are you not wise .'' — You know you are ; yet hear 
One truth, amid your numerous schemes, mislaid, 
Or overlook'd, or thrown aside, if seen : 
" Our schemes to plan by this world, or the next, 
Is the sole difference between wise, and fool." 
All worthy men will weigh you in this scale ; 
What wonder, then, if they prononce you light .'" 
Is their esteem alone not worth your care i 
Accept my simple scheme of common sense ; 
Thus, save your fame,and make two worlds your own. 

The world replies not ; — but the world persists ; 
And puts the cause off lo the longest day, 
Planning evasions for the day of doom. 
So far, at that re-hearing, from redress. 
They then turn witnesses against themselves. 
Hear that, Lorenzo ! nor be wise to-morrow : 
Haste, ha^ste ! A man, by nature, is in haste ; 
For who shall answer for another hour? 
'Tis highly prudent to make one sure friend ; 
And that thou canst not do, this side the skies. 

Ye sons of earth ! (nor willing to be more 1) 
Since verse you think from priestcraft somewhat free, 
Thus, in age so gay, tiie muse plain truths 
(Truths, which, at church, you might have heard in 

prose,) 
Has ventured into light ; well pleased the verse 
Should be forgot, if you the truths retain ; 
And crown her with your welfare, not your praise, 
But praise she need not fear ; 1 see my fate : 
And headlong leap, like Curtius, down the gulf. 
Since many an ample volume, mighty tome, 
Must die ; and die unwept ; O thou minute, 
Devoted page ! go forth among thy foes ; 
Go, nobly proud of martyrdom for truth, 



VIRTUE'S APOLOGY. 167 

And die a double death. Mankind incensed; 
Denies tliee long to live : nor shall thou rest. 
When thou art dead : in Stygian sliades arraign'd 
By Lucifer, as traitor to his throne ; 
And bold blasphemer of his friend, — the World : 
Tlie worhl, whose legions cost him slender pay, 
And volunteers around his banner swarm : 
Prudent, as Pkussia, in her zeal for Gail. 

" Are all, then, fools?" Lorenzo cries.— Yes, all, 
But such as hold this doctrine (new to thee ;) 
" The mother of true wisdom, is the will:" 
The noblest intellect, a fool without it. 
World-wisdom much has done, and more may do, 
In arts and sciences, in wars and peace : 
But art and science, like thy wealth, will leave thee, 
And make thee twice a beggar at thy death. 
This is the most indulgence can afford ; — 
" Thy wisdom all can do, but— make thee wise 
Nor think this censure is severe on thee : 
Satan, thy master, I dare call a dunce. 



NIGHT THE NINTH. 

(and last.) 



THE CONSOL.ATION. 



CONTAINING, AMONG OTHER THINGS, ' 

I. A MORAL SURVEY OF THE NOCTURNAL 

HEAVENS. 

IL A NIGHT ADDRESS TO THE DEITY. 



To His Grace the Duke of Newcastle, one of His 
Majesty's Principal Secretaries of State. 



• Fatis contraria fatajrependens Virgil. 



As when a traveller, a long day past 

In painful search of what he cannot find, 

At night's approach, content with the next cot. 

There ruminates, awhile, his labour lost ; 

The#cheers his heart with what his fate affords, 

And chants his sonnet to deceive the time, 

Till the due season calls him to repose : 

Thus Ij long travell'd in the ways of men, 

And dancing, with the rest, tlie giddy maze, 

Where disappointment smiles at hope's career j 

Warn'd by the languor of life's evening ray. 

At length have housed me in an humble shed ; 

Where', future wandering banish'd from my thought, 

And waiting patient, the sweet hour of rest, 

I chase the moments with a serious song. 

Song sooths our pains ; and age has pains to sooth. 

When age,care, crime, and friends embraced at heart, 
Torn from my bleeding breast, and death's dark shade. 
Which hovers o'er me, quench th' ethereal fire j 



THE CONSOLATION. C9 

Canst thou, O Night ! indulge one labour more .•' 
One labour more indulge ! ilien sleep, my strain ! 
Till, haply, waked by Raphael's golden lyre. 
Where night, death, age, care, crime, and sorrow ceas8 
To bear a part in everlasting lays ; 
Though far, far higher set, in aim, I trust, 
Symphonioustothis humble prelude here. 

Has not the muse asserted pleasures pure, • 
Like those above ; exploding other joys ? 
Weigh what was urged, Lorenzo ! fairly weigh ; 
And tell me, hast thou cause to triumph still ? 
I think, thou wilt forbear a boast so bold. 
But if, beneath tJie favour of mistake. 
Thy smile's sincere ; not more sincere can be 
Lorenzo's smile, than my compassion for him. 
The sick in body call for aid ; the sick 
In mind are covetous of more disease ; 
And when at worst, they dream themselves quite well 
To know ourselves diseased, is half our cure. 
When nature's blush by custom is wiped off". 
And conscience, deaden'd by repeated strokes, 
Has into manners naturalized our crimes j 
The curse of curses is, our curse to love ; 
To triumph in the blackness of our guilt 
(As Indians glory in the deepest jet,) 
And throw aside our senses with our peace. 

But grant no guilt, no shame, no least alloy j 
Grant joy and glory quite unsullied shone ; 

Yet, still, it ill deserves Lorenzo's heart. 
No joy, no glory, elittcrs in thy sight, 
But, through the thin partition of an Jiour, 

I see its sables wove by destiny ; 

And that in sorrow buried ; this in shame ; 

While howling furies ring the doleful knell ; 

And conscience, now so soft tliou scarce canst hear 

Her whisper, echoes her eternal peal. 

Where, the prime actors of the last year's scene ; 

Their port so proud, their buskin, and their plume.' 

How many sleep, who kept the world awake 

With lustre, and with noise ! Has death proclaim'd 

A truce, and hung his sated lance on high ? 

»Tis brandish'd still ; nor shall the present year 

Be more tenacious of her human leaf, 

Or spread of feeble life a thinner fall. 
But needless monuments to wake the thought ; 

Life's gayest scenes speak man's mortality ; 

Though in a style more florid, full as plain. 

As mausoleums, pyramids, and tombs. 

What are our noblest ornaments, but deaths 

Turn'd flatterers of life, in paint, or marble, 

The well stain'd canvass, or the featured stone ? 



170 THE CONSOLATION. [Night IX. 

Our fathers grace, or rather haunt, the scene : 
Joy peoples her pavilliun from the dead. 

" Profest diversions ! cannot these escape .'"' — 
Far from it; these present us with a shroud ; 
And talk of death, like garlands o'er a grave. 
As some bold plunderers, for buried wealth, 
We ransack tombs for pastime ; from the dust 
Call up the sleeping hero ; bid him tread 
The scene for our amusement : how like goda 
We sit ; and, wrapt in immortality, 
Shed generous tears on wretches born to die ; 
Their fate deplorrrig, to forget our own ! 

What, all the pomps and triumphs of our lives, 
But legacies in blossom? Our lean soil, 
Luxuriant grown, and rank in vanities, 
From friends interr'd beneath ; a rich manure ! 
Like other worms, we banquet on the dead : 
Like other worms, shall we crawl on, nor know 
Our present frailties, or approaching fate ? 

LoRE^zo ! such the glories of the world ! 
What is the world itself? thy world ? — ^A grave ! 
Where is the dust that has not been alive ? 
The spade, the plough, disturb our ancestors ; 
From human mould we reap our daily bread. 
The globe around earth's hollow surface shakes, 
And is the ceiling of her sleeping sons. 
O'er devastation we blind revels keep ; 
While buried towns support the dancer's heel. 
The moist of human frame the sun exhales ; 
Winds scatter, through the mighty void, the dry ; 
Earth repossesses part of what she gave, 
And the freed spirit mounts on wings of fire j 
Each element partakes our scatter'd spoils ; 
As nature, wide, our ruins spread : man's death 
Inhabits all things, but the thoughtof man. 

Nor man alone : his breathing bust expires, 
His tomb is mortal ; empires die. Where now, 
The Roman ? Greek ? They stalk, an empty name ! 
Yet few regard them in this useful light ; 
Though half our learning is their epitaph. 
When down thy vale, unlock'd by midnight thought, 
That loves to wander in thy sunless realms, 
O death ! I stretch my view ; what visions rise! 
What triumphs ! toils imperial ! arts divine ! 
In wither'd laurels glide before my sight ! 
What lengths of far-famed ages, billow'd high 
With human agitation, roll along 
In unsubstantial images of air ! 
The melancholy ghost of dead renown, 
Whispering faint echoes of the world's applause j 
With penitential aspect, as they pass, 



THE CONSOLATION. 171 

All point at earth, and hiss at liuman pride, 

The wisdom of tlie wise, and prancings of the great. 

fiiit, O Lorenzo ! far the rest above, 
Of ghastly nature, and enormous size, v 

One form assaults my sight, and chills my blood, 
And shakes my frame. Of one departed world 
I see the miglity shadow : oozy wreath 
And dismal sea-weed crown her ; o'er her urn 
Reclined, she weeps her desolated realms, 
And bloated sons ; and, weeping, prophecies 
Another's dissolution, soon, in flames. 
But, likeC'ASSANDKA, prophecies in vain j 
In vain to many ? not, 1 trust, to thee. 

For, know'st thou not, or art thou loth to know, 
The great decree, the counsel of the skies ? 
DeUigeand conflagration, dreadful powers ! 
Prime ministers of vengeance ! chain'd in caves 
Distinct, apart the giant furies roar; 
Apart ; (^r, such their horrid rage for ruin. 
In mutual conflict would they rise, and wage 
Eternal war, till one was quite devour'd. 
But not for this, ordain'd their boundless rage : 
When Heaven's inferior instruments of wrath. 
War, famine, pestilence, are found too weak 
To scourge a world for her enormous crimes. 
These are let loose, alternate : down they rush, 
Swift and tempestuous, from th' eternal throne. 
With irresistable commission arm'd. 
The world, in vain corrected, to destroy, 
And ease creation of the shocking scene. 

Seest thou, Lorenzo ! what depends on man ? 
The fate of nature ; as for man, her birth. 
Earth's actors change earth's transitory scenes. 
And make creation groan with human guilt. 
How must it groan, in a new deluge whelm'd 
But not of waters ! at the destined hour. 
By the loud trun.pet sumnjou'd to the charge. 
See, all the formidable sons of fire. 
Eruptions, earthquakes, comets, lightnings, play 
Their various engines ; all at once disgorge 
Their blazing magazines ; and take, by storm. 
This poor terrestrial citadel of man. 

Amazing period ! when each mountain-height 
Out-burns Vesuvius ; rocks eternal pour 
Their melted mass, as rivers once tiieypour'd ; 
Stars rush ; and final ruin fiercely drives 
Her ploughshare o'er creation ! — while aloft, 
More than astonishment I if more can be ! 
Far other firmament than e'er was seen, 
Than e'er was thought by man ; far other stars I 
Stars animate, that govern these of fire ; 



172 THE COA'SOLATION, [Night IX. 

Far other sun !— A Siin, O how unlike 

The Babe at Bethle'm ! how unlike the Man, 

That groan'd oii Calvary ! — Yet He it is ; 

That man of sorrows ! O how changed ! What pomp! 

In grandeur terrible, all heaven descends ! 

And gods, ambitious, triumph in his train. 

A swift archangel, with his golden wing. 

As blots and clouds, that darken and disgrace 

The scene divine, sweeps stars and suns aside. 

And now, all dross removed, heaven's own pure day, 

Full on the confines of our eether, flames: 

While dreadful contrast !) far, hovi' far beneath t 

Hell, bursting, belches forth her blazing seas, 

And storms sulphureous ; her voracious jaws 

Expanding wide, and roaring for her prey. » 

Lorenzo ! welcome to this scene ; the last 
In nature's course; the first in wisdom's thought. 
1'his strikes, if aught can strike thee ; this awakes 
The most supine ; this snatches man from death. 
Rouse, rouse, Lorenzo, then, and follow me, 
Where truth, the most momentous man can hear. 
Loud calls my soni, and ardour wings her flight. 
I find my inspiration in my theme : 
The grandeur of my subject is my muse. 

At midnight, when mankind is wrapt in peace, 
And worldly fancy feeds on golden dreams ; 
To give more dread to man's most dreadful hour. 
At midnight, 'tis presumed, this pomp will burst 
From tenfold darkness ; sudden as the spark 
From smitten steel ; from nitrous grain, the blaze. 
Man, starting from his couch, shall sleep no more ! 
The day is broke, which never more shall close 1 
Above, around, beneath, amazement all ! 
Terror and glory join'd in their extremes ! 
Onr God in grandeur, and our world on fire ! 
All nature struggling in the pangs of death ! 
Dost thou not hear her r Dost thou not deplore 
Her strong convulsions, and her final groan .' 
Where are we now ? Ah me ! the ground is gone. 
On which kve stood : Lorenzo ! while thou may'st, 
Provide more firm support, or sink for ever ! 
Where ? how ? from whence i Vain hope I is it too late ! 
Wh(-!re, where, for shelter, shall the guilty fly, 
AVIien consternation turns tlie good man pale ? 

Great day ! for which all other days were made ; 
For which earth rose from chaos, man from earth ; 
And an eternity, the date of gods, 
Descended on poor earth-created man ! 
Great day of dread, decision, and despair ! 
At thought of thee, each sublunary wish 
Lets go its eager grasp, and drops the world ; 
•Aud catches at each reed of hope in lieaven. 



THE CONSOLATION. 173 

At thought of thee !— And art thou absent, then ? 

Lorenzo ! no ; 'tis here ; it is begun ; — 

Already is begun the grand assize, 

in thee, in all. Deputed conscience scales 

The dread tribunal, and forestalls our doom : 

Forestall ; and, by forestalling, proves it sure. 

Why on himself should man void judgment pass ? 

Is idle nature laughing at her sons ? 

Who conscience sent, her sentence will support; 

And God above asserts that God in man. 

Thrice happy they ! that enter now the court 
Heaven opens in tlieir bosoms. But, how rare, 
Ah me ! that magnanimity, how rare ! 
What hero, like the man who stands himself? 
Who dares to meet his naked heart alone ; 
Who hears, intrepid, the full charge it brings, 
Resolved to silence future murmurs there ? 
The coward flies ;and, flying, is undone. 
(Art thou a coward.' No.) The coward flies ; 
Thinks, hut thinks slightly ; asks, but fears to know j 
Asks, " What is truth .i"' with Pilatk ;and retires ; 
Dissolves the court, and mingles with the Ihrong : 
Assylum sad ! from reason, hope and heaven ! 

Shall all, but man, look out w,ith ardent eye, 
For that great day, which was ordain'd for man .' 

day of consummation ! mark supreme 

(If men are wise) of human thought ! nor least, 

Or in thesight of angels, or their King ! 

Angels, whose radiant circles, height o'er height, 

Order o'er order, risine, blaze o'er blaze. 

As in a theatre, surround this scene, 

Intent on man, and anxious for his fate. 

Angels look out for thee ; for thee, their Lord, 

To vindicate his slory ; and for thee. 

Creation universal calls aloud. 

To disinvolve the moral world, and give 

To nature's renovation brighter charms. 

Shall man alone, whose fate, whose final fate, 
Hangs on that hour, exclude it from his thought.' 

1 think of nothing else ; I see ! I feel it ! 

All nature, like an earthquake, trembling round ! 
All deities, like summer swarms, on wing ! 
All basking in the full meriilian blaze ! 
I see the Judge enthroned '. the flaming guard I 
The volume open'd ! open'd every heart ! 
A sunbeam pointing out each secret thought ! 
No patron ! intercessor none ! now past 
The sweet, the clement, mediatorial hour ! 
For guilt no plea ! to pain no pause ! np bound ! 
Inexorable, all ! and all, extreme ! 
Nor man alone 3 the foe of God and man. 



174 THE CONSOLATION. [Nic.ht IX. 

From his dark den, blaspheming, drags his chain, 

And rears his brazen front, with tlmnder, scarr'd ; 

Receives his sentence, and begins his hell. 

All vengeance past, now, seems abundant grace : 

Like meteors in a stormy sky, how roll 

His baleful eyes ! he curses whom he dreads j 

And deems it the first moment of his fall. 

'Tis present to my thought ! — and yet, where is it .'' 
Angels can't tell me ! angels cannot guess 
The period : from created beings lock'd 
In darkness. But the process, and the place, 
Are less obscure ; for these may man' inquire. 
Say, thou great close of human hopes and fears ! 
Great key of hearts ! great finisher of fates ! 
Great end ! and great beginning I say, where art thou' 
Art thou in time, or in eternity ? 
Nor in eternity, nor time, I find thee. 
These, as two monarchs, on their borders meet, 
(Monarchsof all elapsed, or unarrived !) 
As in debate, how best their powers allied, 
May swell the grandeur, or discharge the wrath, 
Of Him, whom both their monarchies obey. 

Time, this vast fabric for him built (and doom'd 
With him to fall,)novv bursting o'er his head ; 

His lamp, the sun,extinguish'd ; from beneath 
The frown of hideous darkness, calls his sons 

From their long slumber ; from earth's heaving womb, 

To second birth ; contemporary throng ! 

Rons'd at one call, upstarting from one bed, 

Press'd in one crow'd, appall'd with one amaze, 

He turns them o'er. Eternity ! to thee. 

Then (as a king deposed disdains to live.,) 

He falls on his own scythe ; nor falls alone ; 

His greatest foe falls with him : Time, and he 

Who murder'd all time's offspring. Death, expire. 
Time was ! Eternity now reigns alone : 

Awful Eternity! offended queen ! 

And her resentment to mankind, how just I 

With kind intent, soliciting access, 

How often has she knock'd at human hearts ! 

Rich to repay their hospitality ; 

How often cali'd ! and with the voice of God ! 

Yet bore repulse, excluded as a cheat! 

A dream ! while foulest foes found Welcome there ! 

A dream, a cheat, now, all things, but her smile. 
For, lo ! her twice ten thousand gates thrown wide, 

As thrice from Indus to the frozen pole. 

With banners streaming as the comet's blaze. 

And clarions, Ifiuder than the deep in storms, . 

Sonorous as immortal breath can blow, 

Four forth their myriads, potentates, and powersy 



THE CONSOLATION. 175 

Of light, of darkness ;. in a middle field, 
Wide as creation ! populous, as wide ! 
A neutral re{;ion ! there to mark th' event 
Of that great drama, whose preceding; scenes 
Detain'd them close spectators, through a length 
Of ages, ripening to this grand result ; 
Ages, as 3 el unnumber'd but by God ; 
Who, now, pronouncing sentence, vindicates 
The rights of virtue, and his own renown. 

Eternit)-, the various; sentence past, 
Assigns tile sever'd throng distinct abodes ! 
Sulphureous, or ambrosial. What ensues .-' 
The deed predominant ! the deed of deeds I 
Which makes a hell of liell, a heaven of heaven. 
The goddess, with determined aspect, turns 
Her adamantine key's enormous size 
Through destiny's inextricable wards, 
Deep driving every bolt, on both their fates: 
Then, from the crystal battlements of heaven, 
Down, down she hurls it through the dark profound, 
Ten thousand thousand fathom ; there to rust, 
And ne'er unlock her resolution more. 
The deep resounds ; and hell, through all her glooms. 
Returns, in groans, the melancholy roar. 
. O how unlike the chorus of the skies ! 
O how unlike those shouts of joy, that shake 
The vvliole ethereal ! How the concave rings ! 
Nor strange ! when deities their voice exalt 5 
And louder far, than when creation rose, 
To see creation's godlike aim, and end, 
So well accomplish'd ! so divinely closed ! 
To see the mighty Dramatist's last act 
( A s meet,) in glory rising o'er the rest. 
IS'o fancied god, a God indeed descends. 
To solve all knots ; to strike the moral home ; 
To throw full day on darkest scenes of time ; 
To clear, commend, exalt, and crown the whole. 
Hence, in one peal of loud, eternal praise, 
The charui'd spectators thunder their applause ; 
And the vast void beyond, applause resounds. 
VV'hat then am 1 ? — 

Amidst applauding worlds, 
And worlds celestial, is ther« found on earth, 
A peevish, dissonant, rebellious string, 
Which jars in the grand chorus, and coniplains ? 
Censure on tht;e, Lorenzo, f suspend. 
And turn it on myself; how greatly due ! 
Ail, all is right, by God ordain'd or done : 
And v.-ho, but God, resumed the friends He gave .' 
And have [ been complaining, then, so long.' 
Compiuiuing of his favours ; pain, and death ? 



176 THE COMPLAINT. [Night IX. 

Who, without pain's advice, would e'er be good ? 

Who, without death, but would be good in vain? 

Pain is to save I'rom pain ; all punishment, 

To make for peace ; and death, to save from death j 

And second death, to guard immortal life ; 

To rouse the careless, the presumptuous awe, 

And turn the tide of souls another way : 

By the same tenderness divine ordain'd. 

That planted Eden, and high-bloonr'd for man, 

A fairer Eden, endless, in the skies. 

• Heaven gives us friends to bless the present scene, 

Resumes them, to prepare us for the next. 

All evils natural are moral goods ; 

All discipline, indulgence, on the whole. 

None are unhappy ; all have cause to smile, 

But such as to themselves that cause deny. 

Our faults are at the bottom of our pains ; 

Error, in act, or judgment, is the source 

Of endless sighs. We sin, or we mistake ; 

And nature tax, when false opinion stings. 

Let impious grief be banish'd,joy indulged 5 

But chieriy then, when grief puts in her claim. 

Joy from the joyous, frequently betrays ; 

Oft lives in vanity, and dies in woe. 

Joy amidst ills, corroborates, exalts ; 

'Tis joy and conquest ; joy and virtue too. 

A noble fortitude in ills, delights 

Heaven, earth, ourselves j 'tis duty, glory, peace, 

Alfliction is the good man's shining scene : 

Prosperity conceals his brightest ray : 

As night to stars, woe lustre gives to man. 

Heroes in battle, pilots in the storm. 

And virtue in calamities, admire. 

The crown of manhood is a winter-joy ; 

An evergreen, that stands the northern blast, 

And blossoms in the rigour of our fate. 

'Tis a prime part of happiness, to know 
How much unhappin^ss must prove our lot; 
A part which few possess ! I'll pay life's tax, 
Without one rebel nuinnur, from this hour, 
Nor think it misery to be a man : 
Who thinks it is, shall never be a god. 
Some ills we wish for, when we wish to live- 

What spoke proud passion?— "*Wish my being lost;" 
Presumptuous ! blasphemous ! absurd ! and false ! 
The triumph of my soul is,— That I am ; 
And therefore that I may be — What? Lorenzo I 
L'lok inward, and look deep ; and deeper still ; 
Unfathomably deep ourtreasure runs 

* Referring to the First Night. 



THE CONSOLATION. 177 

In golden veins, through aH eternity ! 

Ages, and asres, and succeeding still 

New ages, uhere this phantom of an hour, 

Which courts, each night, dull slumber, for repair, 

Shall wake, and wonder, and exult and praise, 

And fly through infinite, and all unlock : 

And (if deserved,) by Heaven's redundant love, 

Made iiaif adorable itself, adore ; 

And find in adoration, endless joy I 

Where thou, not master of a moment here, 

Frail as the flower, and fleeting as the gale, 

May'st boast a whole eternity, enrich'd 

With all a kind Omnipotence can pour. 

Since Adah fell, no mortal, uninspired, 

Has ever yet conceived, or ever shall, 

How kind is God, how great (if good) is man. 

No man too largely from Heaven's love can hope, 

If what is hoped, he labours to secure. 

Ills ?— there are none: All-gracious! none from Thee; 
From man full many ! Numerous is the race 
Of blackest ills, and those immortal too. 
Begot by madness, on fair liberty ; 
Heaven's daughter, hell-debauch'd ! her hand alone 
Unlocks destruriion to the sons of men, 
First barr'd bv 'i'hine ; high-wall'd with adamant, 
Guarded witii terrors reaching to this world. 
And cover'd with the thunders of Thy law ; 
Whose threats are mercies ; whose injunctions, guidesf, 
Assisting not restraining, reason's choice; 
Whose sanctions, unavoidable results 
From nature's course, indulgently reveal'd ; 
If unreveal'd more dangerous, nor less sure. 
Thus, an indulgent father warns his sons, 
" Do this ; fly that" — nor always tells the cause; 
Pleased to reward, as duty to his will, 
A conduct needful to their own repose. 

Great God of wonders ! (if, thy love survey'd) 
Aught else the name of wonderful retains) 
What rocks are these, on which to build our trust ! 
Thy ways admit no blemish ; none I find ; 
Or this alone— " That none is to be found." 
Not one, to soften censure's hardy crime ; 
Not one, to palliate peevish griePs complaint, 
Who, like a dremon, murm'ring from the dust,' 
Dares into judgment call her Judge. — Supreme ! 
For all r bless thee ; most, for the severe ; 
*Her death— my own at hand— the fieiy gulf, 
That flaming bound, of wrath omnipotent ! 
It thunders ;— but it thunders to preserve : 
It strengthens what it strikes j its wliolesome dread 
* Lucia. 
M 



178 THE COXSOLATION. [Night IX. 

Averts the dreaded pain ; its liideous groans 
Joins heaven's sweet iialleiujahs in thy praise, 
Great source of good alone I how kind in all t 
Jri vengeance kind ! pain, death, Gehenna, save. 

Thus in thy world material, mighty Mind I 
Not that alone which solaces, and shines. 
The rough and gloomy, challenges our praise. 
The winter is as needful as the spring ; 
The thunder, as the sun ; a stagnate mass 
Of vapours breeds a pestilential air: 
JJor more propitious the Favonian breeze 
To nature's health, than purifying storms. 
The dread volcano ministers to good : 
Its smother'd flames might undermine the world 
Loud ^tnas fulminate in love to man ! 
Comets good omens are, wlien duly scann'd ; 
And, in their use, eclipses learn to shine. 

Man is responsible for ills received ; 
Those we call wretched are a chosen band, 
CompelI'd to refuge in tlie right, for peace. 
Amid my list of blessings infinite. 
Stand this the foremost, " 'i'hat my heart has bJed." 
'Tis Heaven's last eftbrt of good will to man : 
When pain cant bless, Heaven quits us in despair. 
Who fails to grieve, when just occasion calls, 
Or grieves too much, deserves not to be bless'd, 
Inhuman, or effeminate, his heart: 
Reason absolves the grief, which reason ends. 
May Heaven ne'er trust my friend with happiness, 
Till it has taught him how to bear it well, 
By previous pain ; and made it safe to smile ! 
Such smiles are mine, and such may they remain ; 
Nor hazard their extinction, from excess. 
My change of heart, a change of style demands : 
The Consolation cancels the Complaint, 
And makes a convert of my guilty song. 

As when o'er labour'd, and inclined to breathe, 
A panting traveller, some rising ground. 
Some small ascent, has gain'd, he turns him round, 
And measures with his eye the various vale. 
The fields, woods, meads, and rivers, he has pass'd ; 
And, satiate of his journey, thinks of home, 
Endear'd by distance, nor effects more toil ; 
Thus I, though small, indeed, is that ascent 
The muse has gain'd, review the paths she trod ; 
Various, extensive, beaten but by few ; 
And, conscious of her prudence in repose, 
Pause; and with pleasure meditate an end, 
Though still remote ; so fruitful is my theme 
Through many a field of moral and divine. 
The muse has stray 'd j and much of sorrow seen 



THE CONSOLATION. 179 

In human ways ; and much of false and vain ; 
Which none, who travel this bad road, can miss. 
O'er friends deceased full heartily she wept j 
Of love divine the wonders she display 'd ; 
Prov'd man immortal ; show'd the source of joy ; 
The grand tribunal raised ; assign'dthe bounds 
Ofhuman grief: in few, to close the whole, 
The moral muse has shadow'd out a sketch, 
Though not in form; nor with a RAPHAEL-stroke, 
Of most our weakness needs believe, or do, 
In this our land of travel, and of hope, 
For peace on earth, and prospect of the skies. 

What then remains? Much ! much '. a mighty debt 
To be discharged : these thoughts, O Night ! are thinej 
From thee they came, like lovers' secret sighs, 
While others slept. So Cynthia (poets feign) 
In shadows veil'd, soft sliding from her sphere, 
Her shepherd cheer'd ; of herenamour'd less. 
Than I of thee. — And art thou still unsung, 
Beneath whose brow, and by whose aid, I sing ? 
Immortal silence ! — Where shall I begin .' 
Where end ? or how steal music from the spheres, 
To sooth their goddess ? 

O majestic Night ! 
Nature's great ancestor ! Day's elder-born ! 
And fated to survive the transient sun I 
By mortals, and immortals, seen with awe ! 
A starry crown thy raven brow adorns, 
An azure zone, thy waist ; clouds, in heaven's loom 
Wrought through varieties of shape and shade, 
In ample folds of drap^;ry divine. 
Thy flowing mantle form : and heaven throughout. 
Voluminously pour thy pompous train. 
Thy gloomy grandeurs (nature's most august, 
Inspiring aspect !) claim a grateful verse ; 
And like a sable curtain starr'd with gold, 
Drawn o'er my labours past, shall close the scene. 

And what, O man ! so worthy to be sung .' 
What more prepares us for the songs of heaven ? 
Creation, of archangels is the theme ! 
What to be sung, so needful ? What so well 
Celestial joys prepares us to sustain ? 
The soul of man, His face design'd to see, 
Who gave these wonders to be seen by man, 
Has here a previous scene of objects great. 
On which to dwell ; to stretch to that expanse 
Of thought, to rise to that exalted height 
Of adjniration, to contract that awe, 
And give her whole capacities that strength. 
Which best may qualify for final joy. 
The more our spirits are enlarged on earth, 



180 THE CONSOLATION [Night IX. 

The deeper draught shall they receive of heaven. 

Heaven'sKiNo! whose face unveil'd consumates blisej 
Redundant bliss ! which fills that mighty void, 
The whole creation leaves in human hearts I 
Thou who didst touch the lip of Jesse's son, 
Rapt in sweet contemplation of these fires, 
And set his harpin'concert with tlie spheres ! 
While of thy works material the supreme 
I dare attempt, assist my daring song : 
Loose me from earth's enclosure, from the-sun's 
Contracted circle set my heart at large ; 
Eliminate my spirit, give it range 
Through provinces of thought yet unexplored ; 
Teach me by this stupendous scaffolding, 
Creations golden steps, to climb to Thee. 
Teach me, with art great nature to controul, 
And spread a lustre o'er the shades of night. 
Feel I thy kind assent ? and shall the sun . ^ 

Be seen at midnight, rising in my song ? ' 

Lorenzo ! come, and warm thee : thou whose heart, 
Whose little heart is moor'd within a nook 
Of this obscure terrestrial, anchor weigh. 
Another ocean calls, a nobler port ; 
I am thy pilot, I thy prosperous gale. 
Gainful thy voyage through yon azure main ; 
Main without tempest, pirate, rock, or shore ; 
And whence thou may'st import eternal wealth; 
And leave to beggar'd minds the pearl and gold. 
Thy travels dost thou boast o'er foreign realms ? 
Thou stranger to the world ! thy tour begin ; , 

Tliy tour through nature's universal orb. 
Nature delineates her whole chart at large, 
On soaring souls, that sail among the spheres ; 
And man how purblind, if unknown the whole I 
Who circles spacious earth, then travels here. 
Shall own he never was from home before ! 
Come, my Prometheus,* from thy pointed rock 
Of false ambition if unchain'd, we'll mount. 
We'll innocently, steal celestial fire. 
And kindle our devotion at the stars ; 
A theft, that shall not chain, but set thee free. 

Above our atmosphere's intestine wars. 
Rain's fountain-head, the magazine of hail ; ' 
Above the northern nests of feather'd snows, 
The brew of thunders, and the flaming forge 
That forms the crooked lightning ; 'bove the cavea 
Where infant tempests wait their growing wings, 
And tune their tender voices to that roar. 



Night the Eighth. 



THE CONSOLATION. 181 

Which soon perhaps shall shake a guilty world j 

Above misconstrued omens of the sky, 

Far travelled comets' calculated blaze ; 

Glance thy thought, and think of more than man. 

Thy soul, till now, contracted, wither'd, shrunk, 

Blighted by blasts ofearth's unwholesome air, 

Will blossom here ; spread all her faculties 

To these bright ardours ; every power unfold. 

And rise into sublimities of thought. 

Stars teach, as well as.shine. At nature's birth, 

Thus their commission ran — " Be kind to man." 

Where art thou, poor benighted traveller? 

The stars will light thee ; though the moon should fait 

Where art thou, more benighted ; more astray ! 

In ways immoral ? The stars call the back ; 

And, ifobey'd their counsel, set thee right. 

This prospect vast, what is it ? — Weigh'd Bright, 
'Tis nature's system of divinity, 
And every studentof the night inspires, 
'Tis elder Scripture, writ by God's own hand : 
Scripture authentic ! uncorruptby man. 
Lorenzo I with my radius (the rich gift 
Of thought nocturnal !) I'll pointout to thee 
Its various lessons ; same that may surprise 
An un adept in mysteries of Night ; 
Little, perhaps, expected in her school. 
Nor thought to grow on planet, or on star. 
Bulls, lions, scorpions, monsters, here we feign ; 
Ourselves more monstrous, not to see what here 
Exists indeed ;— a lecture to mankind. 

What read we here ? — Th' existence of a God ? 
Yes ; and of other beings, man above ; 
Natives of ether ! sons of higher climes ! 
And, what may move Lorenzo's wonder more, 
Eternity is written in the skies. 
And whose eternity .' Lorenzo, thine ; 
Mankind's eternity. Nor faith alone ; 
Virtue grows here': here springs the sovereign cure 
Of almost every vice ; but chiefly thine ; 
Wrath, pride, ambition, and impure desired 

Lorenzo ! thou canst wake at midnight too. 
Though not on morals bent : ambition, pleasure! 
Those tyrants 1 for thee so lately fought,* 
Afford their harass'd slaves but slender rest. 
Thou, to whom midnight is immoral noon, 
And the sun's noon tide blaze, prime dawn of day 
Not by thy climate, but capricious crime. 
Commencing one of our Antipodes ! 
In thy nocturnal rove, one moment halt, 

I * Night the Eighth. 



182 THE CONSOLATION. [Night IX. 

'Twixt stage and stage, of riot, and cabal : 
And lift thine eye (if bold an eye to lift. 
If bold to meet the face of injured Heaven,) 
To yonder stars : for other ends they shine, 
Than to light travellers from shame to shame, 
And, thus, be made accomplices in guilt. . 

Why from yon arch, that infinite of space, 
With infinite of lucid orbs replete. 
Which set the living firmament on fire. 
At the first glance, in such an overwhelm 
♦)f wonderful, on man's astonished sight, 
Ruslies Omnipotence.' — To curb our pride; 
Our reason rouse, and lead it to that Power, 
Whose love lets down these silver chains of light. 
To draw up man's ambition to Himself, 
And bind our chaste affections to his throne. 
Thus the three virtues, least alive on earth, 
And welcom'd on heaven's coast with most applause, 
An humble, pure, and heavenly-minded heart, 
Are here inspired. — And canst thou gaze too long ? 

Nor stands thy wrath deprived of its reproof, 
Or unupbraided by this radiant choir. 
The planets of each system represent 
Kind neighbours : mutual amity prevails ; 
Sweet interchange of rays, received, return'd ; 
Enlightening, and enlighten'd ! All, at once, 
Attracting, and attracted ! Patriot-like, 
None sins against the welfare of the whole j 
But their reciprocal, unselfish aid. 
Affords an emblem of millennial love. 
Nothing in nature, much less conscious being, 
Was e'er created solely for itself: 
Thus man his sovereign duty learns in this 
Material picture of benevolence. 

And know, of all our supercilious race. 
Thou most inflammable ! thou wasp of men ! 
Man's angry heart, inspected, would be found 
As rightly set, as are the starry spheres ; 
•'Tis nature's structure, broke by stubborn will. 
Breeds all that uncelestial discord there. 
Wilt thou not feel the bias nature gave .-' 
Canst thou descend from converse with the skies. 
And seize thy brother's throat ^ — For what ? — a clod ? 
An inch of earth ^ The planets cry, " Forbear:" 
They chase our double darkness, nature's gloom ; 
And (kinder still !) our intellectual night. 

And see, Day's amiable sister sends 
Her invitation, in the softest rays 
Of mitigated lustre ; courts thy sight. 
Which suffers from her tyrant-brother's blaze. 
Night grants thee the full freedom of the skies, 



THE COXSOLATIOX. 183 

Nor rudely reprimands thy lifted eye ; 
With gaiii, and joy, she bribes thee to be wipe. 
Nipht opes the noblest scenes, and sheds an au'c, 
Which £;i%'cs those venerable scenes full weight. 
And deep reception, in tli' intender'd heart: 
While liirlit peeps through the darkness, like a spy ; 
And darkness shows its crandenr by the light. 
Nor is the prophet greater than the joy, 
If human hearts at glorious objects glow. 
And admiration can inspire delight. 

What speak I more, than I, this moment, feel f 
With pleasing stupor first the soul is struck : 
(Stupor ordain'd to make her truly wise !) 
Then into transport starting from her trance. 
With love, and admiration, how she glows I 
This gorgeous apparatus ! this display ! 
This ostentation of creative power I 
This theatre ! — what eye can take it in ? 
By what divine enchantment was it raised, 
For minds of the first magnitude to launch 
In endless speculation, and adore? 
One sun by day, by night ten thousand shine ; 
And light us deep into the Deity, 
How boundless in magnificence and miglu I 
O what a confluence of ethereal fires. 
From urns unmimber'd, doun the steep of heaven, 
Streams to a point, and centres in my sight I 
Nor tarries there ; 1 feel it at my heart. 
My henrt, at once, it humbles and exalts ; 
Lays it in dust, and calls it to the skies. 
Who sees it unexalted r or unawed ? 
Who sees it, and can stop at what is seen .* 
Material offsprins of OMifrpOTENCE ! 
Inanimate, all animating birth ! 
Work worthy Him who mad^Hf ! worthy praise ! 
All praise ! praise more than human ! nor denied 
Thy praise divine! — Hnttliou<jh mau,drown'd in sleep, 
Withholds his homage, not alone I wake: 
Bright legions swarm unseen, and sing, unheard 
By mortal ear, the glorious Architect," 
In this his universal temple, hung 
With lustres, with innumerable lights. 
That shed religion on the soul ; at once. 
The temple, and the preacher ! O how loud 
It calls devotion ! genuine growth of night I 

Devotion ! daughter of astronomy ! 
An undevout astronomer is mad. 
True ; all things speak a God : but in the smnll, 
Men trace out hi»m ; in great, lie seizes man i 
Seizes, and elevates, and raps, and fills 
With new inquiries, mid associates new. 



]84 THE CONSOLATION. [Night IX. 

Tell nie, ye stars ! ye planets ! tell me, all 
Ye starr'd, and planeted inhabitants ! what is it ? 
What are these sons of Wonder r Say, proud arch 
(Within whose azure palaces they dvv«ll,) 
Built witli divine ambition 1 in disdain 
Of limit built: built in the taste of heaven ! 
Vast concave ! ample dome ! wast thou design'd 
A meet apartment for the Deity ? — 
Not so ; that thought alone thy state impairs, 
Thy lofty sinks, and shallows thy profound. 
And straightens thy diffusive ; dwarfs the whole. 
And makes an universe an orrery. 

But when I drop mine eye, and look on man, 
Thy right regain'd thy grandeur is restored, 
O nature ! wide flies otf th' expanding round. 
As when whole magazines, at once, are fired, 
The smitten air is hollow'd by the blow, 
The vast displosion dissipates the clouds ; 
Shock'd ether's billows dash the distant skies ; 
Thus (but far more) th' expanding round flies off, 
And leaves a mighty void, a spacious womb, 
'Might teem with new creation ; reinflamed 
Thy luminaries triumph, and assume 
Divinity themselves. Nor was it strange, 
Matter high-wrought to such surprising pomp, 
Such godlike glory, stole the style of gods. 
From ages dark, obtuse, and steep'd in sense; 
For, sure; to sense, they truly are divine, 
And half absolved idolatry from guilt ; 
Nay, turn'd it into virtue. Such it was 
In those, who put forth all they had of man 
Unlost, to lift their thought, nor mounted higher ; 
But, weak of wing, on planets perch'd ; and thought 
What was their highest, must be their adored. 

But they how weak, who could no higher mount '. 
And are there then, Lokenzo, those, to whom 
Unseen, and unexistent, are the same .•• 
And if incomprehensible is join'd. 
Who dare pronounce it madness to believe ? 
Why has the mighty Builder thrown aside 
All measure in his work ; stretch'd out his line 
So far, and spread amazement o'er the whole.' 
Then (as he took delight in wide extremes,) 
Deep in the bosom of his universe, 
Dropp'd down that reasoning mite, that insect, man, 
To crawl, and gaze, and wonder at the scene .' — 
That man might ne'er, presun)e to plead amazement 
Fordisbelief of wonders in Himself. 
Shall God be less miraculous, than what 
His hand has form'd ? Shall mysteries descend 
From unmysterious ? things more elevate 



THE CONSOLATION. 185 

Be more familiar ? uncreated lie 

More obvious than created, to the grasp 

Of hnnian thought ? The more of wonderfnl 

Js heard in Him, the more we should assent. 

Could we conceive him, God he conld not be j 

Or he not God, or we could not he men. 

A God alone can comprehend a God : 

Man's distance how immense ! On such a theme, 

Know this Lorenzo ! (seem it ne'er so strange) 

Nothing can satisfy, but what confounds j 

Nothing, but what astonishes, is true. 

The scene'thou seest,attesrsthe truth I sing ; 

And every star sheds light upon thy creed. 

These stars, this furniture, this cost of heaven, 

If but reported, thou had'st ne'er believed : 

But thine eye tells thee, the romajice is true. 

The grand of nature is th' Almighty's oath, 

In reason's court, to silence unbelief. 

How my mind, opening at this scene, imbibes 
The moral emanations of the skies ; 
While nought, perhaps, Lorenzo less admires ! 
Has the Great Sovereign sent ten thousand worlds 
To tell us, he resides above them all, 
In glory's unapproachable recess ? 
And dare earth's bold inhabitants deny 
The sumptuous, the magnific embassy 
A moment's audience ? Turn we, nor will hear 
From whom they come, or what they would impart * 
For man's emolument ; sole cause that stoops 
Their grandeur to man's eye ? Lorenzo ! rouse ; 
Let thought, awaken'd, take the lightning's winj. 
And glance from east to west, from jHtle to pole. 
Who sees, but is confounded, or conviuced ? 
Renounces reason, or a God adores ? 
Mankind was sent into the world to see : 
Sight gives the science needful to their peace ; 
That obvious science asks small learning's aid. 
Wouldst thou on metaphysic pinions soar? 
Or wound thy patience amid logic thorns.' 
Or travel history's enormous round ? 
Nature no such hard task 'enjoins : she eave 
A make to man directive of his thbujrht ; 
A make set upright, pointing to the stars. 
As who should say, "Read thy chief lesson there," 
Too late to read this manuscript of heaven. 
When, like a parchment-scroTl, shrunk up by flames. 
It folds Lorenzo's lesson from his sight. 

Lesson ho.v various ! Not the God alone> 
I see his ministers ; I see, difiused 
In radiant orders, essences sublime, 
Of various offices, of various plume, 



186 THE CONSOLATION. [Night IX. 

In heavenly liveries, distinctly clad, 
Azure, green, purple, pearl, or downy gold, 
Or all coinmix'd : they stand, with wings outspread, 
Listening to catch the Master's least command. 
And fly through nature, ere the moment ends ; 
Numbers innumerable ! — Well conceived 
By Pagan, and by Christian I o'er each spliore 
Presides an angel to direct its course. 
And feed, or fan, its flames ; or to discharge 
Other high trusts unknown. For who can see 
Such pomp of matter, and imagine, mind, 
For which alone inanimate was made, 
More sparingly dispensed? that nobler son, 
Farliker the great Sire !— 'Tisthus the skies 
Inform us of superiors numberless, 
As much, in excellence, above mankind, 
As above earth, in magnitude, the spheres. 
These,, as a cloud of witnesses, hang o'er us ; 
Tn a throng'd theatre are all our deeds : 
Perhaps, a thousand demigods descend 
On every beam we see, to walk wi^Ji men. 
Awful reflection ; strong restraint from ill ! 
Yet, here our virtue finds still stronger aid 
From these ethereal glories sense surveys. 
Something, like magic, strikes from this blue vault 
With just attention is it view'd ? We feel 
A sudden succour, unimplored, unthought: 
f«fature herself does half the work of man. 
Seas, rivers, mountains, forests, deserts, rocks, 
The promontory's height, the depth profound 
Of subterranean, excavated grots, 
Black-brow'd, and vaulted high, and 3'awning wide 
From nature's structure, ortiie scope of time ; 
If ample of dimensions, vast of size, 
E'en these an aggrandizing impulse give ; 
Of solemn thought enthusiastic lieights 
E'en these infuse. — But wliatofvast in these ? 
Nothing ;— orwe must own the skies forgot. 
Much less in art.— Vain Art! thou pigmy power ! 
How dost thou swell and strut, with human pride, 
To show thy littleness I What childish toys. 
Thy watery columns*squirted to the clouds ! 
Thy bason'd rivers, and iniprison'd seas I 
Thy mountains moulded into forms of men ! 
Thy hundred-gated capitals I or those 
Where three days' travel Tefl us much to ride ; 
Gazing on miracles by mortals wrought, 
Arches triumphal, theatres immense, 
Or nodding gardens pendent in mid air ! 
Or temples proud to meet their gods half-way ! 
Yet these affect us in no common kind, 



TIIE CONSOLATION. 187 

What then the force of such superior scenes? 

Enter a temple, it will strike an awe : 

What awe from this the Deity has huilt ! 

A good man seen, though silent, couns*el gives ; 

The touch 'd spectator wishes to be wise : 

In a bright mirror his own hands have made, 

Here we see sometliing like the face of God. 

Seems it not then enough, to say, Lorenzo, 

To man abandon'd, " Hast rhou seen tlie skies?' 

And, yet, so thwarted nature's kind design 
By daring man, iie makes her sacred awe 
(That guard from ill) his shelter, his temptation 
To more than common guilt, and quite inverts 
Celestial art's intent. The trembling stars 
See crimes gigantic, stalking through the gloom 
With front erect that hide their l)ead by day, 
And making night still darker by their deeds. 
Slumb'ring in covert, till the shades descend. 
Rapine and murder, link'd now prowl for prey. 
The miser earths his treasure ; and the thief. 
Watching the mole, liajf beggars him ere morn. 
Now plots, and foul conspiracies, awake , 
And, muffling up their horrors from the moon, 
Havoc and devastation they prepare. 
And kingdoms tottering in the field of blood. 
Now sons of riot in mid revel rage. 
What shall I do r — suppress it ? or proclaim ? — 
Why sleeps the thunder ? Now, Lorenzo 1 now, 
His best friend's couch the rank adulterer 
Ascends secure : and laughs at gods and men. 
Preposterous madmen, void of fear and shame, 
Lay their crimes bare to these chaste eyes of heaven j 
Yet shrink, and shudder, at a mortal's sight. 
Were moon, and stars, for villains only niad« ; 
To guide, yet screen them, with tenebrious light ? 
No ; they were made to fashion the sublime 
Of human hearts, and wiser make the wise. 

Those ends were answer'd once ; when mortals lived 
Of stronger wing, of aquiline ascent 
In theory sublime. O how unlike 
Those vermin of the night, this moment sung, 
Who crawl on earth and on her venom feed ! 
Those ancient sages, human stars ! They met 
Their brothers of the skies, at midnight liour ; 
Their counsel ask'd ; and what they ask'd, obey'd. 
The Sfagirite, and Plato, he who drank 
The poison'd bowl, and he of Tusculum, 
With himof Corduba (immortal names !) 
In these unbounded and Elysian walks. 
An area fit for gods, and godlike men. 
They took their nigiitly round through radiant paths 



188 THE CONSOLATION. [Night IX 

By seraphs trod ; instructed, chiefly, thus, 
ToTtread in their bright footsteps here below ; 
To wallc. in worth still brighter than the slcies. 
There they contracted their contempt of earth ; 
Of hopes eternal kindled, there, the fire ; 
There, as in near approach, they glow'd, and greyv 
(Great visitants t) more intimate with God, 
More worth' to men, more joyous to themselves. 
Through various virtues, they, with ardour, ran 
The zodiac of their learn'd, illustrious lives. 

In Christian hearts, O for a pagan zeal ! 
A needful, but opprobrious prayer! As much 
Oiir ardour less, as greater is our light. 
How monstrous this in morals! Scarce more strange 
Would this phenomenon in nature strike, 
A sun, that froze us ; or a star, that wariii'd. 

Whit taught these heroes of the moral world ? 
To these thou givest thy praise, give credit too ; 
Tiiese doctors ne'er were pension'd to deceive thee j 
And Pairan tutors are thy taste. — They taught, 
That, narrow views betray to misery : 
That, wise it is to comprehend the whole : 
That virtue rose from nature : ponder'd well, 
The single base of virtue built to heaven : 
That, God and nature our attention claim : 
That nature is the glass reflecting God, 
As, by the sea, reflected is the sun. 
Too glorious to be gazed on in his sphere : 
That, mind immortal loves immortal aims ; 
That, boundless mind affects al)oundless space : 
That, vast surveys, and the sublime of things, 
The soul assimilate, and make her great: 
That, tiierefore, heaven her glories, as a fund 
Of inspiration, thus spreads out to man. 
Such are their doctrines ; such the night inspired. 

And what more true ? What truth of greater weight? 
The soul of man was made to walk the skies ; 
Delightful outlet of her prison here ! 
There, disencumber'd from her chains, the tic3 
Of toys terrestrial, she can rove at large ; 
There, freely can respire, dilate, extend. 
In full proportion let loose all her powers ; 
And, und.'Huded, grasp at something great. 
Nor as a stranger, does she wander there ; 
But wonderful herself, through wonders strays ; 
Contemplating their grandeur, finds her own ; 
Dives deep in their ceconomy divine. 
Sits high in judgment on their various laws, 
And, like a master, judges not amiss. 
Hence greatly pleased, and justly proud, the soul 
Grows conscious of her birth celestial ; breathes 



THE CONSOLATION. U 

More life, more vigour, in her native air, 
And feels herself at home among the stars ; 
And, feeling, emulates her country's praise. 

What call we, then, the firmament, Lorenzo ? 
As earth the body, since the skies sustain 
The soul with food, that give immortal life, 
Call it, the noble pasture of the mind 
Which there expatiates, strengthens, and exults, 
And riots through the luxuries of thought. 
Call it, the garden of the Deitt, 
Blossom'd vvith stars, redundant in the growth 
Of fruit ambrosial ; moral fruit to man. 
Call it the breast-plate of the true High-priest, 
Ardent with gems oracular, that give. 
In points of highest moment, right response ; ' 
And ill neglected, if we prize our peace. 

Thus, have we found a true astroloey ; 
Thus, have we found a new, and noble sense. 
In which alone stars govern human fates. 
O that the stars (as some have feign 'd) let fall 
Bloodshed, and havoc, on embattled realms, 
And rescued monarchs from so black a guilt ! 
Bourbon ! this wish how generous in a foe ! 
Wouldst thou be great, wouldst thou become a god, 
And stick thy deathless name among the stars. 
For mighty conquests on a needle's point .•• 
instead of forging chains for foreigners, 
Bastile thy tutor. Grandeur all thy aim .' 
As yet thou know'st not what it is ; how great. 
How glorious, then, appears the mind of man, 
When in it all the stars, and planets, roll ! 
And what it seems, it is ; great objects make 
Great minds, enlarging as their vieAfs enlarge ; 
^Those still more godlike, as these more divine. 
And more divine than these, thou canst not see, 
Dazzled, o'erpower'd, with the delicious draught 
Of miscellaneous splendours, how I reel 
From thought to thought, inebriate, without end I 
An Eden, this ! a Paradise unlost ! 
I meet the Deitt in every view. 
And tremble at my nakedness before him ! 
O that T could but reach the tree of life ! 
For here it grows, unguarded from our taste ; 
No flaming sword denies our entrance here : 
Would man but gather, he might live forever. 

LoRE.N/o, much of moral hast thou seen. 
Of curious arts art thou mare fond ? Then mark 
The mathematic glories of the skies. 
In number, weight, and measure, all ordain'd. 
LoRE!*zo's boasted builders, chance, and fate, 
Are left to finish his aerial towers : 



190 THE CONSOLATION. [Night IX. 

Wisdom and choice, their well-known characters 

Here deep impress ; and claim it for their own. 

Though splendid all, no splendour void of use : 

Use rivals beauty ; art contends with power j 

No wanton waste, amid effuse expense ; 

The great Economist adjusting all 

To prudent pomp, magniricently wise. 

How rich the prospect ! and for ever new ! 

And newest to the man that views it most ; 

For newerstill in infinite succeeds. 

Tiien, these atrial racers, O liow swift ! 

How the shaft loiters from the strongest string ! 

Spirit alone can distance the career. 

Orb above orb ascending without end ! 

Circle in circle, without end, enclosed ! 

Wheel, within wheel : Ezekiel, like to thine ! 

Like thine, it seems a vision or a dream ; 

Though seen, we labour to believe it true ! 

What involution ! what extent ! what swarms 

Of worlds, that laush at earth ! immensely great! 

Immensely distant from each other's spheres ! 

What, then, the wondrous space through which they 

At once it quite ingulphs all human thought ; [roll? 

'Tis comprehension's absolute defeat. 

Nor think thou seest a wild disorder here : 
Through this illustrious chaos to the sight. 
Arrangement neat, and chastest order, reign. 
The path prescribed, inviolably kept, 
Upbraids the lawless sallies of mankind. 
Worlds, ever thwarting, never interfere : 
What knots are tied ; how soon are they dissolved, 
And set the seeming married planets free ! 
They rove forever, without error rove ; 
Confusion unconfused ! Nor less admire ^^ 

This tumult untumultiious : all on wing! 
In motion, all! yet what profound repose! 
What fervid action, yet no noise ! as awed 
To silence, by the presence of their Lord ; 
Or hush'd by His command, in love to man, 
And bid let fall soft beams on human rest. 
Restless themselves. On yon Caerulean plain, 
In exultation to their God, and thine. 
They dance, they sing eternal jubilee, 
Eternal celebration of His praise. 
But, since their song arrives not at our ear, 
Their dance perplex'd exhibits to the sight 
Fair hieroglyphic of His peerless power. 
Mark how the labyrinthian turns they take, 
The circles intricate, and mystic maze, 
Weave thegrand cipher of Omnipotence ; 
To gods, how great '..how legible to man ! 



THE CONSOLATION. 191 

Leaves so much wonder greater wonder still .' 
Where are tlie pillars that support the skies ? 
What more than Atlantean shoulder props 
Th' incumbent load ? What magic, what strange art. 
In fluid air these ponderous orbs sustains ? 
Who would not think them hun? in golden chains ?-. 
And so they are ; in the high will of Heaven, 
^ hich fixes all ? makes adamant of air, 
Or air of adamant ; makes ail of nought. 
Or nought of all; if such the dread decree. " 

Imagine from their deep founda^ns torn 
The most gigantic sons of earth, the broad 
And towering Alps, all toss'd into the sea ; 
And, light as down, or volatile as air, 
Their bulks enormous, dancing on the waves. 
In time, and measure, exquisite ; while all 
The winds, in emulation of the spheres, 
Tune their sonorous instruments aloft 
The concert swell, and animate the ball.— 
Would this appear amazing ? What, then, worlds. 
In a far thinner element sustain'd, 
And acting the same part, with greater skill. 
More rapid movement, and for noblest ends? 

Wore obvious ends to pass,— are not these stars 
The seats majestic, proud imperial thrones, 
On which angelic delegates of heaven, 
At certain periods, as the Sovereign nods, 
Discharge high trusts of vengeance, or of love : 
To clothe, in outward grandeur, grand design, 
And acts most solemn, still more solemnize ? 

Ye citizens of air ! what ardent thanks, 
What full effusion of the grateful heart. 
Is due from man, indulged in such a sight ! 
A sight so noble ! and a sight so kind ! 
It drops new truths at every ifew survey! 
Feels not Lorenzo something stir within, 
That sweeps away all period i As these spheres 
Measure duration, they no less inspire 
The godlike hope of ages without end. 
The boundless space, through which these rovers take 
Their restless roam, suggests the sister thought 
Of boundless time. Thus, by kind nature's skill, 
To man unlahour'd, that important guest, 
Eternity, finds entrance at the sight : 
And an eternity, for man ordain'd ; 
Or these his destined midnight counsellors, 
The stars had never whisper'd it to man. 
Nature informs, but ne'er insults, her sons. 
Could she then kindle the most ardent wish 
To disappoint it,'— That is blasphemy. 
Thus, of tby creed a second article, 



W2 THE CONSOLATION. [Night IX. 

Momentous, as the existence of a God, 

Is found (as I conceive) where rarely sought j 

And thou may'st read thy soul immortal, here. 

Here, then, Lorenzo, on these glories dwell ; 
Nor want the gilt, illuminated roof, 
That calls the wretched gay to dark delights. 
Assemblies '.—this is one divinely bright ; 
Here, unendanger'd in health, wealth, or fame, 
Range, througii the fairest, and the Sultan scorn. 
He, wise as thou, no crescent holds so fair, 
As that, which on h^ turban awes a world ; 
And thinks the moon is proud to copy him. 
Look on her and gain mure than worlds can give, 
A mind superior to the charms of power. 
Thou muffled in delusions of this life ! 
Can yonder moon turn ocean in his bed. 
From side to side, in constant ebb and flow, 
And purify from stench his watery realms? 
And fails her moral influence ? wants she power 
To turn Lorenzo's stubborn tide of thought 
From stagnating on earth's infected shore, \ 

And purge from nuisance his corrupted heart? v 

Fails her attraction, when it draws to heaven? 
Nay, and to what thou valuest more, earth's joy? 
Minds elevate, and panting for unseen, 
And defecate from sense, alone obtain 
Full relish of existence undeflower'd, 
The life of life, the zest of worldly bliss 
All else on earth amounts— to what ? To this : 
*' Had to be sutfer'd ; blessings to be left :" 
Earth's richest inventory boasts no more. 

Of higher scenes, be then, the call obey'd. 
O let me sraze ! — Of gazing there's no end. 
O let me think '—Thought too is wilder'd here : 
In mid-day flight imagi*ition tires ; 
Ynt soon reprunes her wing to soar anew, 
Her point unable to forbear, or gain ; 
So great the pleasure I so profound the plan ! 
A banquet, this, where men and angels meet, 
Eat the same manna, mingle earth and heaven. 
How distant some of these nocturnal suns ! 
So distant (says the sage,) 'twere not absurd 
To doubt, if beams, set out at nature's birth, 
Are vet arrived at this so foreign world ; 
Though nothing half so rapid as their flight. 
All eye of awe and wonder let me roil, 
And roll forever: who can satiate sight 
In such a scene ? in such an ocea^i wide 
Of deep astonishment? where, depth, height, breadtli, 
Are lost in their extremes ; and where, to count 
The thick sowa glories in this field of fire, 



THE CONSOLATION- 133 

Perhaps a seraph's computation fails. 

Now, go, ambition ! boast th^' boundless might 

In conquest, o'er the tenth part of a grain. 

And yet Lorenzo calls for miracles. 
To give his tottering faith a solid base. 
Why call for less than is already thine ? 
Thou art no novice in theology ; • 

What is a miracle ? — 'Tis a reproach, 
'Tis an implicit satire on mankind ; 
And wliile it satisfies, it censures too. 
To common sense, great nature's course proclaims 
A DEixy: when mankind falls asleep, 
A miracle is sent, as an alarm ; 
To wake the world, and prove Plim o'er again, 
By recent argument, but not more strong. 
Say, which imports more plenitude of power, 
Or natures laws to fix, or to repeal ? 
To make a sun, or stop his mid career ? 
To countermand his orders, and send back 
The flaming courier to the frighted east, 
Warm'd, and astonish'd. at his evening ray .' 
Or bid the moon, as with her journey tired, 
On Ajalon's soft, flowery vale repose .' 
ftreat things are these ; still greater, to create. 
From Adam's bower look down through the whole train 
Of miiacles ; — resistless is their power? 
They do not, cannot, more amaze the mind, 
Than this, call'd unmiracnlous survey, 
If duly weigh'd, if rationally seen. 
If seen with human eyes. l"he brute, indeed, 
Sees nought but spangles here ; the fool, no more. 
Sayest thou, " The course of nature governs all ."* 
The course of nature is the art of God. 
The miracles thou call'st for, this attest ; 
For say, could nature's course controul .'' 

But, miracles apart, v/ho sees Him not, 
Nature's conlrouller, author, guide, and end ? 
Who turns his eye on nature's midnij:ht face. 
But must inquire — " What hand behind the scene, 
What arm almighty, put these wheeling globes 
In motion, wound up the vast machine .^ 
Who rounded in his palm these spacious orbs ? 
Who bowi'd them flaming through the dark profound, 
Numerous as glittering gems of morning dew, 
Or sparks from populous cities in a blazo, 
And set the bosom of old night on fire ? 
Peopled her desert, and made horror smile.'' 
Or, if the military style delights thee 
(For stars have fought their battles, leagued with man,) 
•' Who marshalls this bright host? enrolls their names* 
Appoints their posts, their marches, and returns, 
N 



]gi THE CONSOLATION. [Night IX. 

Punctual, at stated periods ? who disbands 

These veteran troops, their final duty done, 

If e'er disbanded ?" — He, whose potent word, 

Like the loud trumpet, levied first their powers 

In night's inglorious empire, \vberethey slept 

In beds of darkness ; arm'd them with fierce flames, 

Arrang'd and disciplined, and clothed in gold ; 

And cali'd them out of chaos to the field. 

Where now they war with vice and unbelief. 

O let us join this army \ Joining these. 

Will give us hearts intrepid, at that hour, 

When brighter flames shall cut a darker night; 

When these strong demonstrations of a God 

Shall hide their heads, or tumble from their spheres. 

And one eternal curtain cover all ! 

Struck at that thought, as new awaked, I lift 
A more enlighten'd eye, and read the stars, 
To man still more propitious ; and their aid 
(Though guiltless of idolatry) implore. 
Nor longer rob them of their noblest name. 
O ye dividers of my time ! ye bright 
Accountants of my days, and months, and years, 
In your fair calender distinctly mark'd ! 
Since that authentic, radiant register. 
Though man inspects it not, stands good .against him : 
Since you, and years, roll on, though man stands still j 
Teach me my days to number, and apply 
My trembling heart to wisdom ; now beyond 
All shadow of excuse for fooling on. 
Age smooths our path to prudence ; sweeps aside 
The snares keen appetite, and passion, spread 
To catch stray souls : and woe to that grey head, 
Whose folly would undo, what age has done I 
Aid then, aid, all ye stars !— Much rather, Thou, 
Great Artist ! Thou, whose finger set aright 
This exquisite machine, with all its wheels. 
Though intervolved, exact ; and pointing out 
Life's rapid, and irrevocable flight, 
With such an index fair, as none can miss, 
Who lifts an eye, nor sleeps till it is closed. 
Open mine eye, dread Deity ! to read 
The tacit doctrine of thy works ; to see 
Things as they are, unalter'd through the glass 
Of worldly wishes. Time! Eternity! 
('Tis these mismeasured, ruin all mankind,) 
Set them before me ; let me lay them both 
In equal scale, and learn their various weight. 
Let time appear a moment, as it is ; 
And let eternity's full orb, at once. 
Turn on my soul, and strike it into heaven. 
When shall I see far more than charms me now, 



THE COASOLATIOX. 195 

Gaze on creation's model in Thy breast 
Unveil'd, nor wonder at the transcript more ? 
When, this vile, foreign dust, which smothers all 
That travel earth's deep vale, shall [ shake off? 
When shall my soul her incarnation quit, 
And re-adopted to thy bless'd embrace, 
Obtain her apotheosis in Thee? 

Dost think Lorenzo, this is wandering wide ? 
No, 'tis directly striking at the mark : 
To wake thy dead devotion, was my point;* 
And how I bless night's consecrating shades, 
Which to a temple turn an universe ; 
Fill us with great ideas, full of heaven, 
And antidote the pestilential earth ! 
In every storm, that either frowns, or falls, 
When an asylum has the soul in prayer ! 
And what a fane is this, in which to pray ! 
And what a God must dwell in such a fane ! 
O what a genius must inform the skies ! 
And is Lorenzo's salamander heart 
Cold, and untouch'd, amid these sacred fires ? 
O ye nocturnal sparks ! ye glowing embers, 
On heaven's broad earth ! who burn, or burn no more , 
Who blaze, or die, as great Jehovah's breath 
Or blows you, or forbears ; assist my song ; 
Pour your whole influence ; exercise his heart, 
So long possess'd : and bring him back toman. 

And is Lorenzo a demurrer still ? 
Pride in thy parts provokes thee to contest 
Truths, which, contested, put thy parts to shame. 
Nor shame they more Lorenzo's head than heart j 
A faithless heart, how despicably small ! 
Too straight, aught great, orgenerous, to receive I 
Fill'd v/ith an atom ! fill'd, and foul'd, with self! 
And self mistaken ; self, that lasts an hour ! 
Instincts, and passions, of the nobler kind, 
Lie suffocated there ; or they alone. 
Reason apart, would wake liigh hope; and open, 
To ravish'd thought, that intellectual sphere, 
Where order, wisdom, goodness, providence, 
Their endless miracles of love display, 
And promise all the truly great desire. 
The mind that would be happy, must be great ; 
Great, in its wishes ; great in its surveys- 
Extended views a narrow mind extend ; 
Push out its corrugate, expansive make. 
Which ere long, more than planets shall embrace. " 
A man of compass makes a man of worth ; 
Divine contemplate, and become divine. 

* Page Mid. 



196 THE CONSOLATION. [Nic.ht IX. 

As man was made for glory, and for bliss, 
All littleness is an approach to woe : 
Open thy bosom, set thy wishes wide, 
And let in manhood : let in happiness ; 
Amid the boundless theatre of thought 
From nothing, up to God ; which maltes a man. 
Take God from nature, nothing great is left ; 
Man's mind is in a pit, and nothing sees ; 
Man's heart is in a jakes, and loves the mire. 
Emerge from thy profound ; erect thine eye ; 
See thy distress 1 How close art thou besieged ! 
Besieged by nature, the proud sceptic's foe '. 
Enclosed by these innumerable worlds, 
Sparkling conviction on the darkest mind. 
As in a golden net of Providence, 
How art thou caught, sure captive of belief .' 
From this thy bless'd captivity, what art. 

What blasphemy to reason, sets thee free ! 

This scene is Heaven's indulgent violence. 

Canst thou bear up against this tide of glory ? 

What is earth, bosom'd in these ambieiit orbs. 

But, faith in God imposed, and press'd on man ? 

Barest thou still litigate thy desperate cause, 

Spite of these numerous, awful witnesses, 

And doubt the deposition of the skies ? 

O how laborious is thy way tb ruin ! 
Laborious ! 'tis impracticable quite : 

To sink beyond a doubt, in this debate, 

With all his weight of wisdom, and of will, 

And crime flagitious, I defy a fool. 

Some wish they did : but no man disbelieves. 

God is a spirit ; spirit cannot strike 

These gross, material organs ; God by man 

As much is seen, as man a God can see. 

In these astonishing exploits of power, 

What order, beauty, motion, distance, size ! 

Concertion of design, how exquisite I 

How complicate, in their divine police ! 

Apt means ! great ends ! consent to general good ! — 

Each attribute to these material gods. 

So long (and that with specious pleas) adored, 

A separate conquest gains o'er rebel thought ; 

And leads in triumph the whole mind of man. 
Lorenzo, this may seem harangue to thee ; 

Such all is apt to seem, that thwarts our will. 

And dost thou, then, demand a simple proof 

Of this great master-moral of the skies, 

Unskill'd, or disinclined, to read it there ? 

Since 'tis the basis, and all drops without it. 

Take it, in one compact, unbroken chain. 

Such proof insists on an attentive ear j 



THE COXSOLATION, 197 

'Twill not make one amid a mob of thoughts, 
And, for thy notice, struggle with the world. 
Retire: — the world shut out; — thy thoughts call homej — 

Imagination's airy wing repress ; 

Lock up thy senses ; — let no passion stir ; — 
Wake all to reason ; — let her reign alone ; — 
Then, in thy soul's deep silence, and the depth 
Of nature's silence, midnight, thus inquire. 
As I have done ; and shall inquire no more. 
In nature's channel, thus the questions run : 

" What am l.^'and from whence? — I nothing know, 
But that I am ; and, since 1 am, conclude 
Sometliing eternal : had there e'er been nought, 
Nought still had been : eternal there must be. — 
But what eternal .?— why not human race ? 
And Adam's ancestors without an end ? — 
That's hard to be conceived ; since every link 
Of that long-chain'd succession is so frail : 
Can every part depend, and not the whole ? 
Yet grant it true ; new difficulties rise ; 
I'm still quite out to sea ; nor see the shore. 
Whence earth, and these bright orbs ? — eternal too .' 
Grant matter was eternal ; still these orbs 
Would want some other father ;— much design 
Is seen in all their motions, all their makes : 
Design implies intelligence, and art : 
Th^t can't be from themselves — or man ; that ax 
Man scarce can comprehend, could man bestow ? 
And nothing greater, yet allow'd, than man : — 
Who, motion, foreign to the smallest grain, 
Shot through vast masses of enormous weight ? 
Who bid brute matter's restive lump assume 
Such various forms, and gave it wings to fly ? 
Has matter innate motion ? Then each atom, 
Asserting its indisputable right 
To dance, would form an universe of dust. 
Has matter none .' Then, whence these glorious lorms 
'^nd boundless flights, from shapeless, and reposed i 
Has matter more than motion ? Has it thought, 
Judgment, and genius ? Is itdeeply learn'd 
In mathematics.' Has it framed such laws, 
Which, but to guess, a Newton made immortal .'' — 
If so, how each sage atom laughs at me, 
Who think a clod inferior to a man ! 
If art, to form ; and counsel, to conduct ; 
And that with greater far, than human skill ; 
Resides not in each block ; — a Godhead reigns. — 
Grant, then, invisible, eternal, Mind ; 
That granted, all is solved. —But, granting that, 
Draw I not o'er me a still darker cloud ? 
Grant I not that which I can ne'er conceive ' 



198 THE CONSOLATION. [Night IX. 

A being without origin, or end ! — 
Hail, human liberty ! There is no God- 
Yet, why i On either scheme that knot subsists ; 
Bubsist it must, in God, or human race j 
If in the last, how many knots beside, 
Indissoluble all .'—Why choose it there, 
Where, chosen, still subsist ten thousand mor; .' 
Reject it, where, that chosen, all the rest 
Dispers'd, leave reason's whole horizon clear? 
This is not reason's dictate : reason says, 
Close with the side where one grain turns the scale 
What vast preponderance is here ! Can reason 
With louder voice exclaim— Believe a God ? 
And reason heard, is the sole mark of man. 
What things impossible must man think true. 
On any other system ! and how strange 
To disbelieve, through mere credulity 1" 

If, in this chain, Lorenzo finds no flaw, 
Let it forever bind him to belief. 
And where the link, in which a flaw he finds ? 
And, if a God there is, that God how great ! 
How great that power, whose providential care 
Through these bright orbs' dark centres darts a ray ! 
Of nature universal threads the whole ! 
And hangs creation, like a precious gem, 
Th ough little, on the footstool of his throne ! 

That little gem, how large ! A weight let fail 
From a fix'd star, in ages can it reach 
This distant earth .' Say, then, Lorenzo ! Where 
Where ends this mighty building.' \Vhere begin 
The suburbs of creation.' Where the wall. 
Whose battlements look o'er into the vale 
Of non-existence .' Nothing's strange abode ! 
Say, at what point of space Jehovah dropp'd 
His slacken'd line, and laid his balance by ; 
Weigh 'd worlds, and measured infinite, no more ? 
Where rears his terminating pillar high 
Its extramundane head .' and says, to gods. 
In characters illustrious as the sun, 

/ stand, the plants proud period ; I pronounce 
The work accoviplis/i^d ; the creation closed. 
Shout, all ye gods! nor shout, ye gods alone ; 
Of all that lives, or, if devoid of life. 
That rests, or rolls, ye heights, and depths, resound.' 
Resound! resound! ye depths and heights, resound! 

Hard are those questions ? — Answer harder still 
fs this the sole exploit, the single birth, 
The solifary son, of Power Divine.' 
Or has th' Almighty Father, with a breath, 
impregnated the womb of distant space ? 



THE CONSOLATION. 199 

Has lie not bid, in various provinces, 
Brother-creations the dark bowels burst 
Of night primasval ; barren, now, no more ? 
And He the central sun, transjtiercingall 
Those giant-generations, which disport. 
And dance, as motes, in his meridian ray ; 
That ray withdrawn, benighted, orabsorb'd, 
In that abyss of horror, wJience they sprung ; 
Wiiile Chaos triumphs, repossess'dof all 
Rival creation ravish'd from his throne? 
Chaos ; of nature both the womb, and grave ! 

Think'stthou my scheme, Lorenzo, spreads too 
Is this extravagant ? — No ; this is just ; [wide ' 

Just in conjecture, though 'twere false in fact. 
If 'tis an error, 'tis an error sprung 
From noble root, high thought of the Most High. 
But wherefore error ? Who can prove it sucli ? — 
He that can set Omnipotence a bound. 
Can man conceive beyond what God can do .' 
Nothing, but quite impossible, is hard. 
He summons into being, w ith like ease, 
A whole creation, and a single grain. 
Speaks he the word ? a thousand worlds are born • — 
A thousand worlds? there's space for millions more ; 
And in what space can his great ^f fail ? 
Condemn me not, cold critic ! but indulge 
The warm imagination :why condemn ? 
Why not indulge such thoughts, as swell our hearts 
With fuller admiration of that Power, 
Who gives our hearts with such high thoughts to 

swell ? 
Why not indulge in His augmented praise ? 
Darts not His glory a still brighter ray. 
The less is left to Chaos, and the realms 
Of hideous Night, where fancy strays aghast ; 
And though most talkative, makes no report ? 

Still seems my thought enormous ? Think again ;— 
Experience 'self shall aid thy lame belief. 
Glasses (that revelation to the sight !) 
Have they not led us deep in the disclose 
Of fine-spun nature, exquisitely small ; 
And, though demonstrated, still ill conceived ? 
If, then, on the reverse, the mind would mount 
In magnitude, what mind can mount too far, 
To keep the balance, and creation poise ? 
Defect alone can err on such a theme : 
What is too great, if we the Cause survey ? 
Stupendous Architect? Thou, thou art all ! 
My soul flies up and down in thoughts of Thee, 
And finds herself but at the centre still I 
I AM, thy name ! Existence, all tbiiie own ! 



200 THE CONSOLATION. [Night IX. 

Creation's nothing ; flatter'd much, if styled 
«' The thin, the fleeting atmosphere of Goo." 

O for the voice — of ivhat .' of whom ? — What voice 
Can answer to my wants, in such ascent, 
As dares to deem one universe too small ? 
Tell me, Lorenzo ! (for now fancy glows, ' 
Fired in the vortexof Almighty Power) 
Is not this home creation, in the map 
Of universal nature, as a speck, 
Like fair Brittanma in our little ball ; 
Exceeding fair, and glorious for its size, 
But elsewhere, far outmeasured, far outshone? 
In fancy (for the fact beyond us lies,) 
Canst thou not figure it, an isle, almost 
Too smalt for notice, in the vast of being ; 
Sever'd by mighty seas of unbuilt space 
From other realms ; from ample continents 
Of higher life, where nobler natives dwell ; 
Less northern, less remote from Deity, 
Glowing beneath the line of the Supreme ; 
Where souls in excellence make haste, put forth 
Luxyriant growths ; nor the late autumn wait 
Of human worth, but ripen soon to gods ? 

Yet why drown fancy in such depths as these ? 
Return, presumptuous, rover ! and confess 
The bounds of man ; nor blame them, as too small. 
Enjoy we riot full scope in what is seen ? 
Full ample the dominions of the sun ! 
Full glorious to behold ! how far, how wide, 
The matchless monarch, from his fiaming throne, 
Lavish of lustre, throws his beams about him, 
Further, and faster, than a thought can fly, 
And feeds his planets with eternal fires ; 
This Heliopolis, by greater far. 
Than the proud tyrant of the Nile, was built ; 
And He alone, who built it, can destroy. 
Beyond this city, why strays human thought ? 
One wonderful, enough for man to know ! 
One infinite, enough for man to range ! 
One firmament, enough for man to read ! 
O what voluminous instruction here ! 
What page of wisdom is denied him .'' none ; 
If learning his chief lesson makes him wise. 
Nor is instruction, here, our only gain ; 
There dwells a noble pathos in the skies. 
Which warms our passions, proselytes our hearts. 
How eloquently shines the glowing pole ! 
What authority it gives its charge, 
Demonstrating great truths in style sublime, 
Though silent, loud ! heard earth around ; above 
Tbe planets heard ; and not unheard in hell : 



THE CONSOLATIOX. 201 

Hell bas her wonder, tlioufh too proud to praise. 

Is earth, then, more infernal ; has she those, 

Who neither praise (Lorenzo !) nor admire ? 

Lorenzo's admiration, pre-engaged, 

Ne'er ask'd the moon one question ; never held 

Least corresiwndence with a single star ; 

We'er rear'd an altar to the queen of heaven 

Walking in brightness ; or her train adored. 

Their sublunary rivals have long since 

Engross'd his whole devotion ; stars malign. 

Which made their fond astronomer run mad ; 

Darken his intellect, corrupt his heart ; 

Cause him to sacrifice his fame and peace 

To momentary madness, call'd delisht : 

Idolater, more gross than ever kiss'd 

The litled hand to Luna, or pour'd out 

The blood to Jote !— O THOU, to whom belongs 

Allsacrifice I O thou Great Jove unfeign'd I 

Divine Instructer ! thy first volume, this, 

For man's perusal ; all in capitals ! 

In moon and stars (heaven's golden alphabet !) 

Emblazed to seize the sight ; who runs may read ; 

Who reads, can understan(i« 'Tis unconfined 

To Christian land, or Jewry ; fairly writ, 

In language universal, to mankind : 

A language, lofty to the learn'd ; yet plain 

To those that feed the flock, or guide the plough, 

Or, from its husk, strike out the bounding grain. 

A language worthy the Great Mind that speaks ! 

Preface, and comment, to the sacred page ! 

Which oft refers its reader to the skies. 

As presupposing his first lesson there. 

And Scripture 'self a fragment, that unread. 

Stupendous book of wisdom, to the wise ! 

Stupendous book ! andopen'd, Night! by thee. 

By thee much open'd, I confess, O Night ! 
Yet more I wish ; ^but how shall I prevail ? 
Say, gentle Night ! whose modest maiden beama 
Give us a new creation, and present 
The world's great picture soften'd to the sight ; 
Nay, kinder far, far more indulgent still. 
Say, thou, whose mild dominion's silver key 
Unlocks our hemisphere, and sets to view 
Worlds beyond number ; worlds conceal'd by day. 
Behind the proud and envious star of noon ! 
Canst thou not draw a deeper scene ? — and show 
The mighty Potentate, to whom belong 
These rich regalia, pompously display'd 
To kindle that high hope .' Like him of Uz, 
I gaze around ; 1 search on every side — 
O for a glimpse of Him my soul adores I 



S02 THE CONSOLATION. [Night IX 

As the chaste hart, amid the desert waste, 

Pants for the livinjj; stream ; for Him who made her, 

So pants the thirsty soul, amid the blank 

Of sublunary joys. Say, goddess I where .'' 

Where, blazes His bright court .? Where burns His 

throne .'' 
Thou knovv'st ; for thou art near Him ; by thee, round 
His grand pavilion, sacred fame reports 
The sable curtain drawn. If not, can none 
Of thy fair daughter-train, so swift of wing, 
Who travel far, discover where He dwells ? 
A star His dwelling pointed out below. 
Ye Pleiades '. Arcturus ! Mazaroth ! 
And thou, Orion ! of still keener eye ! 
Say ye, who guide the wilder'd in the waves, 
And bring them out of tempest into port ! 
On which hand must I bend ray course to find Ilim ? 
These courtiers keep the secret of their King ? 
r wake whole nights, in vain, to steal it from them. 

I wake ; and, waking, climb Nisht's radiant scale, 
From sphere to sphere ; the steps by nature set 
For man's ascent ; at once to tempt, and aid ^ 
To tempt his eye, and aid his towering thought j 
Till it arrives at the great goal of all. 

In ardent contemplation's rapid car. 
From earth, as from my barrier, I set out. 
How swift I mount ! Diminish'd earth recedes ; 
1 pass the moon : and, from her further side, 
Pierce heaven's blue curtain ; strike into remote ; 
Where, with his lifted tube, the subtile sage 
His artificial, airy journey takes. 
And to celestial lengthens human sight. 
I pause at every planet on my road, 
An-d ask for Him who gives their orbs to roll, 
Their foreheads fair to shine. From Saturn's ring, 
In which, of earths an army ini^ht be lost, 
Witli the bold comet, take my bolder flight, 
Amid those sovereign glories of the skies. 
Of independent, native lustre proud ; 
The souls of sytsems • and the lords of life, , 
Throiish their wide empires !— What behold I now.' 
A wilderness of wonders burning round ; 
Where larger suns inhabit higher spheres ; 
Perhaps the villas of descending gods ! 
Nor halt I here ; my toil is but begun ; 
»Tis but the threshold of the Deity ; 
Or far beneath it, I am grovelling still. 
Nor is it strange ; I built on a mistake ! 
The erandeur of his works, whence folly souglit 
For aid, to reason sets his glory higher ; 
Who built thus high for worms (mere worms to Him ;) 



THE CONSOLATIOX. 203 

O where Lorenzo ! must the Builder dwell ? 

Pause, then ; and, for a moment, here respire — 
If human thdljght can keep its station here. 
Where am I ? — Where is earth .' — Nay, where art thou, 
O sun .'—Is the sun tiirn'd recluse ?— And are 
His boasted expeditions short to mine ? — 
To mine, how short : On Nature's Alps I stand, 
And see a thousand firmaments beneath ! 
A thousand systems, as a thousand grains I 
So much a stranger, and so late arrived. 
How can man's curious spirit not inquire, 
What are the natives of this world sublime, 
Of this so foreign unterrestrial sphere, 
Where mortal, untranslated, never stray'd ? 

" O ye, as distant from my little home, 
As swiftest sun-beams in an age can fly ! ' 
Far from my native element I roam. 
In quest of new, and wonderful, to man. 
What province this, of His immense domain, 
Whom all obey ? Or mortals here, or gods ? 
Ye borderers on tlie coast of bliss ! what are you ? 
A colony from heaven? or, only raised. 
By frequent visit from heav.n's neighbouring realms, 
To secondary gods, and half divine ? — 
Whate'er your nature, this is past dispute, 
Far other iife you live, far other tongue 
You talk, far other thought, perhaps, you think, 
Than man. How various are the works of God I 
But say. What thought? Is reason here enthroned, 
And absolute ?or sense in arms against her.' 
Have you two lights ? or need you no reveal'd ? 
Enjoy your happy realms their golden age .' 
And had your Eden an abstemious Eve ? 
Our Eve's fair daughters prove their pedigree. 
And ask their Arams—' Who would not be wise ?* 
Or, if your mother fell, are you redeeni'd ? 
And if redeem'd — is your Redeemer scorn'd .'' 
Is this your final residence ? If not. 
Change you your scene, translated ? or by death ? 
And if by death : what death .' — Know you disease ? 
Or horrid war .' — With war, this fatal hour, 
EuROPA groans (so call we a small field, 
Where kings run mad.) In our world, death disputes 
Intemperance to do the ivork of age ; 
And, hanging upthe quiver nature gave him. 
As slow of execution, for dispatch 
Sends forth imperial butchers ; bids them slay 
Their sheep (the silly sheep they fleeced before,) » 
And toss him twice ten thousand at a meal. 
Sit all your executioners on thrones .' 
With you, can rage for plunder make a god ? 



•K14 THE COXSOLATfON. [Nioht [X. 

And bloodshed wash out everj' otl)er stain ? — 
And you, perhaps, can't bleed : from matter gross 
Your spirits clean, are delicately clad 
tn fine-spun ether, privileged to soar, 
Unloaded, uninfected ; how unlike 
The lot of man '. How few of human race 
By their own mud unmurder'd ! How we wage 
Self-war eternal !— Is your painful day 
Of hardy conflict o'er ? or, are you still 
Raw candidates at school ? And have you those 
Who disafTect reversions, as with us ? 
But what are we : You never heard of man ; 
Or earth, the Bedlam of the universe ! 
Where reason (undiseased with you) runs mad, 
And nurses folly's children as her own ; 
Fond of th^ foulest. In the sacred mount 
Of holiness, where reason is pronounced 
Infallible, and thunders, like a god ; 
E'en there, by saints, the daemons are outdone ; 
What these think wrong, our saints refine to right ; 
And kindly teach dull hell her own black arts: 
'Satav, instructed, o'er their morals smiles. — 
But this, how strange to you, who know not man ! 
Has the least rumour of our race arrived ? 
Call'd here Elijah in his flaming car? 
Pass'd by you the good Enoch, on his road 
To those fair fields, whence Lucifer was hurl'd ; 
Who brush'd, perhaps, your sphere in his descent, 
Stain'd your pure crystal ether, or let fall 
A short eclipse from his portentious shade? 
O, that that fiend had lodged on some broad orb 
Athwart his way ; nor reach'd his present home, 
Then blacken'd earth with footsteps foul'd in hell, 
Nor wash'd in ocean, as from Rome be pass'd 
To Britain's isle ; too, too conspicuous there !" 

But this is all digression. Where is He, 
That o'er heaven's battlements the felon hurl'd 
To groans, and chains, and darkness ? where is He, 
Who sees creation's summit in a vale ? 
He, whom, while man is man, he can't but seek ; 
And if he finds, commences more than man? 
O for a telescope his throne to reach ! 
Tell me, ye learn'd on earth, or bless'd above ! 
Ye searching, ye Newtonian angels — tell, 
Where, your great Master's orb? his planets, where; 
Those conscious satelites, those morning stars, 
First born of Deity ! from central love, 
By veneration most profound, thrown oflf; 
By sweet attraction, no less strongly drawn ; 
Awed, and yet raptured ; raptured, yet serene ; 
Past tbonght illustrious, but with borrow'd beams ; 



THE CONSOLATION. 

In still approaching circles, still remote, 
ilevolving round the sun's eternal Sire f 
Or sent, in lines direct, on embassies . 
To nations — in what latitude ? — Beyond 
Terrestrial thought's horizon ! And on what 
High errands sent ? — Here human effort ends : 
And leaves me still a stranger to His throne. 

Full well it might ! I quite mistook my road ; 
Born in an age, more curious than devout ; 
More fond to fix the place of heaven, or hell. 
Than studious this to shun, or that secure. 
'Tis not the curious, but the jdous path, 
Th.1t leads me to my point ; Lorenzo I know, 
Without or star, or angel, for their guide. 
Who worship God, shall find him. Humble love. 
And not proud reason, keeps the door of heaven ; 
Love finds admission, where proud science fails. 
Man's science is the culture of his heart ; 
And not to lose his plummet in the depths 
Of nature, or the more profound of God. 
Either to know, is an attempt, that sets 
The wisest on a level with the fool. 
To fathom nature, (ill attempted here !) 
Past doubt, is deep philosophy above ; 
Higher degrees in bliss archangels take. 
As deeper learn'd ; the deepest, learning still. 
For, what a thunder of Omnipotence 
(So might I dare to speak) is seen in all ! 
in man ! in earth ! in more atnaxing skies ! 

Teaching this lesson, pride is loth to learn 

" Not deeply'to discern, not much to know ; 
Mankind was born to wonder, and adore." 

And is there cause for higher wonder still, 
Than that which stnick us from our past surveys? 
Yes ; and for deeper adoration too. 
From my late airy travel unconfined, 
Have I learn'd nothing .' — Yes, Lorenzo ; thia : 
Each of these stars is a religious house ; 
1 saw their altars smoke, tlieir iricense rise ; 
And heard hosannas ring through every sphere, 
A seminary fraught with future gods. 
Nature, all o'er, is consecrated ground. 
Teeming with growths immortal, and divine. 
The great Prohrietor's all-bounteous hand 
Leaves nothing waste ; but sows these fiery fiei'di 
With seeds of reason, which to virtues rise 
Beneath his genial ray; and, if escaped 
The pestilential blasts of stubborn will. 
When grown mature, are gather'd for the skies. 
And is devotion thought too much on eaith, 
When beings, so superior, homage boast, 



806 THE CONSOLATION. [Night IX. 

And triumph in prostrations to The Throwe ? 

But wherefore more of planets, or of stars? 
Ethereal journeys, and, discover'd there, 
Ten thousand worlds, ten thousand ways devout, 
All nature sending incense to the Throne, 
Except the bold Ijorenzo's of our sphere i 
Opening the solemn sources of my soul. 
Since I have pour'd, like feign'd Eridanus, 
My flowing numbers o'er the flaming skies, 
For see, of fancy, or of fact, what more 
Invites the muse — here turn we, and review 
Our past nocturnal landacape wide : — then say, 
Say, then, Lorenzo ! with what burst of heart, 
The whole, at once, revolving in his thought, 
Must man exclaim, adoring and aghast ? 
" O what a root ! O what a branch, is here ! 
O wiiata Father ! what a family ! 
Worlds ! systems ! and creations ; — and creations. 
In one agglomerated cluster hung. 
Great Vine !« on Thee, on Tfiee the cluster hangs j 
The filial cluster! infinitely spread 
In glowing globes, with various being fraught ; 
And d'-i"':=' (nectarious draught ;) immortal life. 
Or, anoLil 1 say, (for who can say enough.') 
A constellation often thousand gems, 
(And, O 1 of what dimensions! of what weight !) 
Set in one signet flames on the right hand 
Of Majesty Divine ! the blazing seal, 
That deeply stamps, on all created mind, 
Indelible, his sovereign attributes. 
Omnipotence, and love! that, passing bound ; 
And this, surpassing that. Nor stop we here, 
For want of power in God, but thought in man. 
E'en this acknowledged, leaves us still in debt : 
If greater aught, that greater all is thine, 
Dread Sire I — Accept this miniature of Thee ; 
And pardon an attempt from moral thought, 
In which archangels might have fail'd, unblamed." 

How such ideas ofthe Almighty's power) 
And such ideas of th' Almighty's plan 
(Ideas not absurd,) distend the thought 
Of feeble mortals ! Nor of them alone ! 
The fulness of the Deity breaksforth 
In inconceivables to men, and gods. 
Think, then, O think I nor ever drop the thought j 
How low must man descend, when gods adore ! 
Have I not, then, accomplish'd my proud boast? 
Did I not tell thee, " We would mount, Lorenzo ! 
And kindle our devotion at the stars .'"f 

* John XV. 1. f See page 179. 



THE CONSOLATION. 207 

And liave I fail'd ? and did I flatter thee ? 
And art all adamant ? And dost confute 
All urged, with one irrefragable smile ? 
Lorenzo ! mirth how miserable here? 
Swear by the stars, by Him who made them, swear. 
Thy heart henceforth, shall be as pure as they : 
Then thou, like them, shalt shine ; like them, shalt risa 
From low to lofty ; from obscure to bright ; 
By due gradation, nature's sacred law. 
The stars, from whence : — Ask Chaos — he can tell. 
These bright temptations to idolatry. 
From darkness, and confusion, took their birth ; 
Sons of deformity ! from fluid dregs 
Tartarean, first they rose to masses rude ; 
And then, to spheres opaque ; then dimly shone ; 
Then brighten'd ; then blazed out in pt^rfectday. 
Nature delights in progress ; in advance 
From worse to better: but, when minds ascend, 
Progress, in part, depends upon themselves. 
Heaven aids exertion ; greater makes the great ; 
The voluntary little lessens more. 
O be a man ! and thou shalt be a god ! 
And half self-made ! — Ambition how divine ! 

O thou, ambitious of disgrace alone ! 
Still undevout? urtkindled ?— Thouijh high taught, 
School'd by the skies, and pupil of the stars; 
Rank coward to the fashionable world ! 
Art thou ashamed to bend lliy knee to Heaven .' 
Cursed fume of pride, exhaled from deepest hell ! 
Pride in religion, is man's highest praise. 
Benton destruction ! and in love with death 1 
Not all these luminaries, quench'd at once. 
Were half so sad, as one benighted mind. 
Which gropes for happiness, and meets despair. 
How, like a widow in her weeds, the Night, 
Amid her glimmering tapers, silent sits ! 
How sorrowful, how desolate, she weeps 
Perpetual dews, and saddens nature's scene ! 
A scene more sad sin makes the darken'd soul. 
All comfort kills, nor leaves one spark alive. 

Thoujrh blind of heart, still open is thine eye : 
W'hy such magnificence in all thou seest ? 
Of matter's grandeur, know, one end is this, 
To tell the rational, who gazes on it — 
" Though that immensely great, still greater he, 
Whose breast capacious, can embrace, and lodge, 
Unburdeii'd, nature's universal scheme ; 
Can grasp creation with a single thought ; 
Creation grasp ; and not exclude its Pire" — 
To tell him further^'' It behoves him much 
To guard th' important, yet depending, fate 



208 THE CONSOLATION. ([Night IX. 

Of being, brighter than a thousand suns ; 
One single ray of thouj^ht outshines them all." 
And if man hears obedient, soon he'll soar 
Superior heights, and on his purple wing, 
His purple wing bedropp'd with eyes of gold, 
Rising, where thought is now denied to rise, 
Look down triumphant on these dazzling spheres. 

Wliy then persist? — No mortal ever lived, 
But, dying, he pronounced (when words are true) 
The whole that charm thee, absolutely vain ; 
Vain, and far worse ! Think thou, with dying men j 
O condescend to think as angels think ! 
O tolerate a chance for happiness ! 
Our nature such, ill choice ensures ill fate ; 
And hell had been, though there had been no God- 
Dost thou not know, my new astronomer ! 
Earth, turning from the sun, brings nisht to man ? 
Man. turning from his God, brings endless niirht ; 
Where thou canst read no morals, find no friend, 
Amend no manners, and expect nopeacj. 
How deep the darkness ! and the groan, how loud ! 
And, far, how far, from lambent are the flames ! — 
Such is Lorenzo's purchase ! such his praise '. 
The proud, the politic Lorenzo's praise I 
Though in his ear, and levell'd at his heart, 
I've half read o'er the volume of the skies. 

For think not thou hast heard all this from me ; 
My song but echoes what great nature speaks. 
What has she spoken .' Thus the goddess spoke, 
Thus speaks for ever : — " Place at nature's head, 
A sovereign, which o'er all things rolls his eye, 
Extends his wing, promulgates his commands, 
But, above all, diffuses endless good : 
To whom, for sure redress, the wrong'd may fly j 
The vile, for mercy ; and tiie pain'd, for peace : 
By whom the various tenants of these spheres, 
Diversified in fortunes, place, and powers, 
Raised in enjoj'ment, as in worth they rise. 
Arrive at length (if worthy such approach) 
M that bless'd fountain-head, from which they stream ) 
Where conflict past redoubles present joy ; 
And present joy looks forward on increase ; 
And that, on more ; no period ! every step 
A double boon ! a promise, and a bliss." 
How easy sits this scheme on human hearts ! 
It suits their make ; it soothes their vast desires j 
Passion is pleased, and reason asks no more ; 
'Tis rational ! 'tis great '—But what is thine ? 
It darkens ! shocks ! excruciates ! and confounds! 
Leaves us quite naked, both of help, and hope, 
Sinking from bad to worse ; few years, the sport 



THE CONSOLATION. 201 

Of fortune; then, the morsel of despair. 

Say, then, Lorenzo (for thou know'st it well,) 
What's vice ?— Mero want of compass in our thought. 
Religion, what ?— Tiie proof of common sense. 
How art thou hooted, where tlie least prevails ; 
Is it my fault, if these truths call thee fool ? 
And thou shalt never be miscall 'd by me. 
Can neither shame, nor terror, stand' thy friend ? 
And art thou still an insect in the mire ? 
How, like thy guardian angel, have I flown ; 
Snatch'd thee from earth ; escorted thee through all 
Th' ethereal armies ; walk'd thee, like a god. 
Through splendours of first magnitude, arranged 
On either hand ; clouds thrown beneath thy feet ; 
Close crusted on the bright paradise of God ; 
And almost introduced thee to the Throne ! 
And art thou still carousing, for delight. 
Rank poison : first, fermenting to mere froth, 
And then subsiding into final gall ? 
To beings of sublime, immortal make. 
How shocking is all joy, whose end is sure ! 
Such joy, more shocking still, the more it charms! 
And dost thou choose what ends, ere well begun; 
And infamous, as short? And dost thou choose 
(Thou, to whose palate glory is so sweet) 
To wade into perdition, through contempt. 
Not of poor bigots only, but thy own ? 
For 1 have peep'd into thy cover'd heart, 
And seen it blush beneath a boastful brow ; 
For, by strong guilt's most violent assault, 
Conscience is but disabled, not destroy'd. 

O thou most awful being, and most vain! 
Thy will, how frail ! how glorious is thy power ! 
Through dread eternity has sown her seeds 
Of bliss, and woe, in thy despotic breast ; 
Though heaven, and hell, dejiend upon thy choic* ^ 
A butterfly comes 'cross, and both are fled. 
Is this the picture of a rational.' 
This horrid image, shall it be most just ? 
LoREiTzo ! no : it cannot — shall not, be, 
If there is force in reason ; or, in sounds. 
Chanted beneath the glimpses of the moon, 
A magic, at this planetary hour. 
When slumber locks the general lip, and dreams 
Through senseless mazes hunt souls uninspired. 

Attend — the sacred mysteries begin 

My solemn night-born adjuration hear ; ^ 

Hear, and I'll raise thy spirit from the dust ; 
While the stars gaze on this enchantment new : 
Enchantment, not infe'-nal, but divine . 

" By Silence, death's peculiar attribute ; 
O 



SIO THE CONSOLATION. [Night IX 

By Darkness, cuilt's inevitable doom ; 

By Darkness, and by Silence, sisters dread ! 

That draw the curtain round night's ebon throne, 

And raise ideas, solemn as the scene ! 

By Night, and all of awful, night presents 

To thought, or sense (of awful much, to both. 

The goddess brings!) By these her trembling fires, 

Like Vesta's, ever burning ; and, like hers. 

Sacred to the thoughts immaculate, and pure ! 

By these bright orators, that prove, and praise, 

And press thee to revere, the Deity ; 

Ferhaps, too, aid thee, when rever'd awhile, 

To reach his throne ; as stages of the soul, 

Through which, at different periods, she shall pass, 

Refining gradual, for her final height. 

And purging off some dross at every sphere ! 

By this dark pall thrown o'er the silent world I 

By the world's kings, and kingdoms, most renown'd, 

From short ambition's zenith set for ever ; 

Sad presage to vain boasters, now in bloom ! 

By the long list of swift mortality, 

From Adam downward to this evening knell, 

Which midnight waves in fancy's startled eye ; 

And shocks her with a hundred centuries, 

Round death's black banner throng'd, in human 

thought ! 
By thousands, now, resigning their last breath, 
And calling thee — wert thou so wise to hear ! 
By tombs o'er tombs arising ; human earth 
Ejected, to make room for — human earth ; 
The monarch's terror ! and the sexton's trade ! 
By pompous obsequies, that shun the day, 
The torch funereal, and the nodding plume. 
Which makes poor man's humiliation proud j 
Boast of our ruin ! triumpii of our dust I 
By the damp vault that weeps o're royal bones ; 
And the pale lamp, that shows the ghastly dead, 
JVIore ghastly through tiie tliick incumbent gloom ! 
By visits (if there are) from darker scenes. 
The gliding spectre ! and the groaning grave ! 
By groans, and graves, and miseries that groan , 
For the grave's shelter ! By desponding men, 
Senseless to pains of death, from pangs of guilt I 
By guilt's ias-t audit ! By yon moon in blood, 
The rocking firmament, the falling stars. 
And thunder's last discharge, great nature's knell ! 
By second chaos ; and eternal night" — 
Be WISE— Nor let Philander blame my charm; 
Bat own not ill discharged my double debt, 
Love to the living, duty to the dead. 
_ For know, I'm but executor ; he left 



THE CONSOLATION. 211 

This moral legacy ; I make it o'er 
By his command : Philander hear in me, 
And Heaven in both.— If deaf to these, oh ! hear 
Fjlorello's tender voice : his weal depends 
On thy resolve ; it trembles at thy choice : 
For his sake love thyself. Example strikes 
All human hearts ! a bad example more ; 
iUore still a fatlier's ; that ensures his ruin. 
Aa parent of his being, wouldst thou prove 
Th' unnatural parent of his miseries, 
And make him curse the being which thou gavest? 
Is this the blessing of so fond a father .' 
If careless of Lorenzo, spare, oh ! spare 
Florello's father, and Philander's friend ! 
Flohello's father rnin'd, ruins him ; 
And from Philander's friend the world expects 
A conduct, no dishonour to the dead. 
Let passion do, what nobler motive should ; 
Let love, and emulation, rise in aid 
To reason ; and persuade; thee to be — bless'd. 
This seems not a request to be denied ; 

I Yet (such th' infatuation of mankind !) 
»Ti9 the most hopeless, man can make to man. 
Shall I, then, rise in argument, and warmth ; 
And urge Philander's posthumous advice, 

I From topics yet unbroach'd ? 

j But, oh ! I faint ! my spirits fail ! — Nor strange ! 

I So long on wing, and in no middle clime ! 

( To which my great Creator's glory call'd : 
And calls— but, now, in vain. Sleep's dewy wand 

' Has stroked my drooping lids, and promises 
My long J^rrear of rest ; the downy god 
(Wont to return with our returning peace) 
Will pay, ere long, and bless me with repose. 
Haste, haste, sweet stranger I from the peasant's cot, 
The ship-boy's hammock, or the soldier's straw. 
Whence sorrow never chased thee : with thee bring, 
Not hideous visions, as of late ! but draughts 
Delicious of well-tasted, cordial rest ; 
Man's rich restorative ; his balmy bath, 
That supples, lubricates, and keeps in play, 
The various movements of this nice machine 
Which asks such frequent periods of repair. 
When tired with vain rotations of the day, 
Sleep winds us up for the succeeding dawn ; 
Fresh we spin on, till sickness clogs our wheels, 
Or death quite breaks the spring, and motion ends. 
When will it end with me ? 

" Thou only know'st, 

Thou, whose broad eye the future, and the past, 
Joins to the present ; making one of three 



212 THE CONSOLATION. Night IX. 

To mortal thought ! Thou know'st, and Thou alone, 

All-knowing !— all-unknown !— and yet well known ' 

Near, though remote ! and, though unfathom'd, felti 

And, though invisible, for ever seen ! 

And seen in all ! the great and the minute : 

Each globe above with its gigantic race, 

Each flower, each leaf, with its small people swarm'di 

Those puny vouchers of Omivipotencb !) 

To the first thought, that asks, 'From whence ?' declare 

Their common Source. Thou Fountain running o'er 

In rivers of communicated joy ! 

Who gavest us speech for far, far humbler themes t ,. 

Say, by what name shall 1 presume to call , h ■ 

Him I see burning in these countless suns, 

As Moses, in the bush .? Illustrious Mind . 

The whole creation, less, far less, to Thee, 

Than that to the creation's ample round. 

How shall I name Thee .-' — How my labouring soul ' 

Heaves underneath the thought, too big for.birta. 

" Great System of perfections ! Mighty Cause 
Of causes mighty ! Cause uncaused ! Sole Root 
Of nature, that luxuriant growth of God . 
First Father of effects ! that progeny 
Of endless series j where the golden chain's 
Last link admits a period, who can tell ? 
Father of all that is or heard, or hears ! 
Father or all that is or seen, or sees ! 
Father of all that is, or shall arise ! 
Father of this immeasurable mass 
Of matter multiform ; or dense, or rare ; 
Opaque, or lucid ; rapid, qr at rest ; 
Minute, or passing bound ! in each extreme, 
Of like amaze, and mystery, to man. 
Father of these brilliant millions of the night ! 
Of which the least, full Godhead hath proclaim'd. 
And thrown the gazer on his knee — Or, say, 
Is appellation higher still. Thy choice ? 
Father of matter's temporary lords ! 
Father of spirits ; nobler offspring ! sparks 
Of high paternal glory ; rich endow'd 
With various measures, and with various modM 
Of instinct, reason, intuition \ beams 
More pale, or bright from day divine, to break 
The dark of matter organized (the ware 
Of all created spirit j) beams, that rise 
Each over other in superior light. 
Till the last ripens into lustre strong, 
Of next approach to Godhead. Father fond 
(Far fonder than e'er bore that name on earth) 
Of intellectual beings ! beings bless'd 
With powers to please Thee ; not of passive ply 



THE CONSOLATION. 213 

To laws they know not ; beings lodged in seats 

Of well-adapted joys, in different domes 

Of this imperial palace for thy sons ; 

Of this proud, populous, well-policied. 

Though boundless habitation, plann'd by Thee : 

Whose several clans their several climates suit ; 

And transposition, doubtless, would destroy. 

Or, oh ! indulge, immortal King ! indulge 

A title, less august, indeed, but more 

Endearing ; ah ! how sweet in human ears ! 

Sweet in our ears, and triumph in our hearts ! 

Father of immortality to man ! 

A theme that lately* set my soul on fire. — 

And Thou the next ! yet equal ! Thou, by whom 

That blessing was convey'd j far more ! was bought • 

Ineffable the price ! by whom all worlds 

Were made ; and one redeem'd ! illustrious Light 

From Light illustrious ! Thou, whose regal powerj 

Finite in time, but infinite in space. 

On more than adamantine basis fix'd, 

O'er more, far more, than diadems, and thrones, 

Inviolably reigns ; the dread of gods ! 

And, oh ! the friend of man ! beneath whose foot, 

And by the mandate of whose awful nod, 

All regions, revolutions, fortunes, fates, 

Of high, of low, of mind, and matter, roll 

Through the short channels of expiring time, 

Or shoreless ocean of eternity. 

Calm, or tempestuous (as thy Spirit breathes,) 

In absolute subjection ! — And, O Thou 

The glorious Third ! distinct, not separate ! 

Beaming from both ! with both incorporate ; 

And (strange to tell !) incorporate with dust! 

By condescension, as thy glory, great. 

Enshrined in man ! of human hearts, if pure, 

Divine inhabitant; the tie divine 

Of heaven with distant earth ! by whom, I trust 

(If not inspired,) uncensured this address 

To Thee, to Them— To whom .'—Mysterious Power j 

ReveaI'd— yet unreveal'd ! darkness in light ! 

Number in unity ! our joy ! our dread ! 

The triple bolt that lays all wrong in ruin ! 

That animates all right, the triple sun ! 

Sun of the soul t her never-setting sun : 

Triune, unutterable, unconceived, 

Absconding, yet demonstrable. Great God ! 

Greater than greatest ! better than the best ! 

Kinder than kindest ! with soft pity's eye. 

Or (stronger still to speak it) with thine own, 

* Nights the Sixth and Seventh. " 



214 THE CONSOLATION. Night IX. 

From thy bright home, from that high firmament, 

Where Thou, from all eternity, hadst dwelt ; 

Beyond archangels, unassisted ken ; 

From far above what mortals highest call ; 

From elevation's pinnacle ; look down, 

Through— what? confounding interval t through all, 

And more than labouring fancy can conceive; 

Through radiant ranks of essences unknown ; 

Through hierarchies from hierarchies detach'd 

Round various banners of Omnipotence, 

With endless change of rapturous duties fired : 

Through wondrous beings' interposing swarms, 

All clustering at the call, to dwell in Thee ; 

Through this wide waste of worlds ! this vista vast, 

All sanded o'er with suns ; suns turned to night 

Before thy feeblest beam — Look dowft — down — down, 

On a poor breathing particle in dust, 

Or, lower, — an immortal in his crimes. 

His crimes forgive '. forgive his virtues, too ! 

Those smaller faults, half converts to the right; 

Nor let me close these eyes, which never more 

May see the sun (though night's descending scale 

Now weighs up morn,) unpitied, and unbless'd '. 

In Thy displeasure dwells eternal pain ; 

Fain, our aversion ; pain which strikes me now : 

And, since all pain is terrible to man. 

Though transient, terrible ; at Thy good hour, 

Glently, ah gently lay me in my bed. 

My clay-cold bed ! by nature, now, so near: 

By nature, near; still nearer by disease! 

Till then, be this, an emblem of my grave : 

Let it outpreach the preacher ; every night 

Let it out cry the boy at Philip's ear ; 

That tongue of death ! that herald of the tomb ! 

And when (the shelter of thy wing implored) 

My senses, soothed, shall sink in soft repose ; 

O sink this truth still deeper in my soul. 

Suggested by my pillow, sign'd by fate, 

First, in fate's volume, at the page of man — 

MarCs sickly soul, though, turned and tossed for ever. 

From side to side, can rest on nought but Thee ; 

Here, in full trust ; hereafter, in full joy ; 

On Thee, the promised, sure, eternal dawn 

Of spirits, toil'd in travel through this vale. 

Nor of that pillow shall my soul despond ; 

For— Love almighty ! Love almighty ! (sing, 

Exult, creation !) Love almighty, reigns ! 

That death of death ! that cordial of despair ! 

And loud eternity's triumphant song I 

" Of whom, no more : — For, O thou Patron God I 
Thou God and mortal 1 thence more God to man [ 



THE CONSOLATrON. 316 

Man's theme eternal ! man's eternal theme I 
Thou canst not 'scjipe uninjured from our praise 
Uninjured from our praise can He escape, 
Who, disembosom'd from the Father, bows 
The heaven of heavens, to kiss the distant earth ! 
Breathes out in agonies a sinless soul ! 
Against the cross, death's iron sceptre breaks I 
From famisL'd ruin plucks her human prey 1 
Throws wide the gates celestial to his foes ' 
Their gratitude, for such a boundless debt, 
Deptutes their sutFering brothers to receive 1 
And, if deep human guilt in payment fails ; 
As deeper guilt, prohibits our despair ! 
Enjoins it, as our duty, to rejoice ! 
And (to close all) omnipotently kind, 
Takes his delights among the sons of men."* 

What words are these !— And did they come from 
heaven ? 
And were they spoke to man ? to guilty man ? 
What are all mysteries to love like this ! 
The song of angels, all the melodies 
Of choral gods, are wafted in the sound j 
Heal and exhilerate the broken heart : 
Though plunged, before, in horrors dark as night 
Rich prelibation of consumate joy ! 
Nor wait we dissolution to be bless'd. 

This final effort of the moral muse, 
How justly tilled If Nor for me alone : 
For all that read ; what spirifraf support, 
What hights of consolation, crown my song ! 

Then farewell Night ! Of darkness, now, no more i 
Joy breaks, shines, triumphs ; 'tis eternal day. 
Shall tha^^hich rises out of nought complain 
Of a fe\v;evils, paid with endless joys .'' 
My soul ! henceforth, in sweetest union join 
The two supports of human happiness, 
Which some, erroneous, think tan never meet ; 
True taste of life, and constant thought of death ! 
The thought of death, sole victor of its dread ! 
Hope be thy joy ; and probity thy skill ; 
Thy patron he, whose diadem has dropp'd 
Yon gems of heav'n ; eternity, thy pri/e : 
And leave the racers of the^world their own, 
Their feather, and their froth, for endless toils ; 
They part with all for that which is not bread ; 
They mortify, they starve, on wealth, fame, power j 
And laugh to scorn the fools that aim at more. * 
How must a spirit, late escap'd from earth, "f " t 
Suppose Philander's, Lucia's, or Narcissa'a 

* Prov. chap, viii f The Consolation. 



216 THE CONSOLATION. [Night IX 

The truth of things new-blazing in its eye, 
Look back astonish'd, on the ways of men, 
"Whose lives whole drift is to forget their graves ! 
And when our present privilege is past, 
To scourge ns with due sense of its abuse, 
The .«ame astonishment will seize us all. 
What then must pain us, would preserve us now 
Lorenzo ! 'tis not yet too late : Lorenzo ! 
Seize wi$dom, ere 'tis torment to be wise ; 
That is. seize wisdom, ere she seizes thee. 
For, what, my small philosopher : is hell ? 
' 'Tis nothing, but full knowledge of the truth, 

When truth, resisted long, has sworn our foe } 

And calls eternity to do her right. 

Thus, darkne^ss aiding intellectual light, 

And sacred silence whisp'ring truths divine, 

And truths divine converting pain to peace, 

My song the midnight raven has outvving'd, 

And shot, ambitious of unbounded scenes. 

Beyond the flaming limits of the world. 

Her gloomy flight. But what avails the fliglit 

Of fancy, when our hearts remain below ?' 

Virtue abounds in flatterers, and foes: 

'Tis pride, to praise her : penance, to perform. 

To more than words, to more than worth of tongue 

Lorenzo ! rise at this auspicious hour ; 

An hour, when Heaven's most intimate with man ; 

When, like a falling star, the ray divine 

Glides swift into the bosdhi of the just ; 

And just are all, determined to reclaim ; 

Which sets that title high, within thy reach. 

Awake, then ; thy PHiLAPfCER calls : awake ! 

Thou, who Shalt wake, when the creation sl^ips ; 

When, like a taper, all these suns expire ; r 
When Time, like him of Gaza in his wrath. 
Plucking the pillars that support the world. 
In nature's ample ruins lies entomb'd : 
And xVIidnight, universal Midnight ! reigns. 



." , ^. THE END. 

vf^Bl^ 85 9 







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